My Fair Gwen-Of-Air
by Brilliant Brunette Beauty
Summary: While James and Lily were in the midst of their epic romance, their best friends were having one of their own.
1. Chapter 1

"Guin! Hurry up!"

The shout comes from a stunning auburn haired teen pushing a cart that weighs a good few kilograms more than she does. The rim of her bell-bottoms drags along the concrete floor as she pushes with all her might. Even with her hair askew and some sweat condensing on her brow, she still manages a wide, excited smile as she approaches the section between the 9th and 10th platforms.

Trailing slowly behind her is a shorter, plainer looking brunette who is having even more trouble pushing her cart full of luggage and a fat tabby cat lounging on top of a few school books. Like her friend, beads of sweat line her brow and drip down her forehead. Despite the hot, sticky September weather, she's covered from head to toe with a floral blouse, high waisted trousers, and a pair of white go-go boots sneakily hidden underneath the flare of the jeans.

"Merlin, Lily, I'm coming! The train won't leave in the time it takes me to push my cart through the platform!"

This earns a grin from the redhead, Lily Evans.

"You'll have to hurry up if you want a good seat, Guiny," she teases. "I'll be in the Prefect Train with James. You're on your own this year."

The brunette, Guinevere Driscoll, lets out a short, bark-like laugh.

" _James_?" she mocks. "Whatever happened to calling him 'Potter'? You're not starting to fancy him, are you, Lilykins?"

Lily turns as red as her hair at the accusation, stopping her cart just short of the platform. Guinevere can anticipate her best friend's reaction before it comes.

"No," she snaps, her tone lacking any venom. "He grew up after 5th year, you know. We're just… friends now. It would be strange to refer to a friend by their last name, wouldn't it?"

Guinevere doesn't bother to respond to her friend's quite frankly pathetic excuse. She simply smirks as she pushes her cart through the brick barrier at platform 9 ¾. The scenery of the stifling grey muggle station slowly melts away to reveal the loud, brightly colored railway station she's been coming to for the past 6 years.

Her face splits into a wide, toothy smile as she takes in the scene. Voices flutter in from every direction. Most come from elated 2nd through 7th years, a few nervous whispers from novice 1st years, and even the occasional sob coming from over-protective parents letting their children go for the first time.

Guinevere shakes her head, chuckling slightly. It reminds her of her first year. Her mother was in hysterics and had to be dragged away from the station by her equally distressed stepfather. She remembers being excited to explore this world of magic that she was previously unaware of, but anxious to leave her parents and her home and the world that she had always known. The sight of the obvious muggle parents brings a wave of nostalgia crashing down on her.

"You've missed it too, haven't you?"

The voice beside her makes Guinevere give a little jump. Lily managed to sneak up on her unnoticed while she took in the familiar sights. She gives her friend a flustered laugh, which earns her a knowing smile.

"I know how you feel," Lily murmurs, her voice just barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "It's home."

Coming from anyone else, Guinevere would insist that they couldn't understand how she feels. Most kids in their years are purebloods or at least half-bloods. When they leave Hogwarts, they come home to the same world they left behind. But Lily is a muggle-born as well. They both go home each summer to a different world; a world that no longer feels like their own. The wizarding world is their new normal. It's not that they dislike going home. Both girls love their families and enjoy seeing them come break. But it will never again feel quite right.

Lily suddenly breaks the silence by clearing her throat and pushing her cart forward.

"Well, let's not wait too long. You have to claim a compartment. Dorcas Meadowes probably stole your seat in our usual one by now."

Guinevere groans in response and gives her cart a mighty heave forward, spurred on by the threat of losing her coveted spot on the train. Every year, she would share a compartment with Lily, Marlene McKinnon, and Alice MacDougal. After Lily became a prefect, Emmeline Vance began joining them in Lily's old spot. Dorcas Meadowes had been forced to share a compartment with a few deathly quiet Ravenclaw girls for the past few years and now made it known that she had her eye on Guinevere's seat, but Guinevere wasn't willing to give it up.

"If she stole my seat, I'll shove my wand up her nose," she threatens as they board the train. Lily lets out an airy laugh, knowing full well that the threat is definitely not empty.

"Be sure to take a polaroid of that," Lily teases. "I know you packed your camera."

Guinevere feels her cheeks heat up. She knows she shouldn't be embarrassed. After all, she's muggle-born. She can't be expected to just drop all her muggle hobbies. But she feels ridiculous for smuggling a brownie camera in her bag when she could easily take a moving photo that was five times more interesting to look at than a boring old polaroid.

Old habits die hard, she supposes.

She nudges Lily lightly with her shoulder.

"Enjoy the Prefect car and _James_ ," Guinevere teases. Her friend blushes scarlet and does her best to send a glare her away, but it fails to hold any malice. Lily has always been too kind-hearted to ever be convincingly mean. But that doesn't mean she isn't terrifying when she's angry.

"Oh, I will," she whispers back, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Both girls break out in giggles as Lily shuffles away to the Prefect car.

Guinevere rolls her eyes with a grin. She knows Lily has feelings for the one and only James Potter. The two were at odds with each other since first year – or at least, Lily was at odds with James. Meanwhile, James was trying to woo Lily in all the wrong ways. Their 5th year was the pinnacle of his immaturity, but when he came back for 6th year, it was like meeting a new person.

Of course, he was still the mischievous James who was always ready for an adventure and ready to jump into trouble for his friends. But none of his pranks were targeted at people anymore, nor were they mean-spirited. When Lily recognized how much he had matured, she readily agreed to wipe the slate clean and be his friend. Lily could be stubborn at times, and her temper was short, but she was never unfair or cruel. She always believed in second chances. It was one of the many things that Guinevere loved about her best friend.

Her tabby cat, Stevie Wonder, takes the moment to brush up against her and weave in between her legs, breaking her out of her thoughts.

 _The compartment_.

Guinevere could slap herself for forgetting. Dorcas has for sure taken her seat by now. Hauling her bags over her shoulder, she rushes past a few very confused 1st years with Stevie Wonder hot on her heels. The number of students still wandering the train corridor is dwindling fast. Most everyone is seated by now. Guinevere isn't liking her chances.

Sure enough, when she makes it to compartment F4, the outer-most right hand side seat is taken by Dorcas Meadowes. The four girls inside are in the midst of an animated conversation, gesturing wildly, not noticing the crestfallen girl standing on the other side of the glass.

Guinevere sighs.

At most, she has a minute to find an open compartment before the train departs.

Trudging along, she silently prays she finds a compartment with other Gyffindors. Maybe she'll be able to find a few friendly acquaintances. Or maybe a few Hufflepuffs will be willing to make some room for her. She wouldn't mind finding a compartment with Ravenclaws either. As long as they aren't Slytherin, she'll be alright.

She cringes at the thought. The Slytherins in her year are a particularly nasty bunch, especially with the rising tension with a war on the horizon. She's had the dreaded 'm-word' spat at her more times than she cares to count in these recent years. It doesn't bother her much. Why should she be ashamed of something she has no control over? However, she doesn't go out of her way to interact with her tormentors. For a Gryffindor, she's very opposed to confrontation. At least when it's unnecessary.

At around the 5th compartment she passes by, she finally notices an empty seat out of the corner of her eye. Relief floods her. Another 15 seconds or so and she probably would have been caught out in the corridor when the train started.

Without so much as a glance at who else resides in the compartment, she opens the door and slips in, leaving just enough room for Stevie Wonder to follow her.

"I'm sorry, but would you mind if I…"

She trails off when she finally gets a good look at the occupants of the compartment.

Just her luck. It's Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black; The Marauders.

Minus James Potter, of course.

Chocolate brown eyes lock with steel grey as her gaze settles on Sirius Black. The boy with the black, cheekbone length curly hair looks just as smug as she remembers. Though her contact with the Marauders has been limited, it's impossible not to interact with someone in both your house and year.

"Mind if you what?" Sirius asks, though it's obvious he knows what she wants.

Stevie Wonder takes this time to hop up into Remus Lupin's lap. The fat feline looks oddly pleased with himself.

"I-I…" Guinevere stutters, trying desperately to pluck up her courage. The sharp teasing from Sirius Black and James Potter has always been enough to tie her tongue in knots and turn her body red, no matter how many times she swears to herself that things will be different in the new year.

It's times like these when she questions what the sorting hat was thinking when it placed her in Gryffindor.

"Of course you can sit here, Guinevere," Remus Lupin responds kindly.

She lets out a silent breath of relief and stores her luggage away before scrambling down into the only open seat.

A seat which, just so happens, is next to Sirius Black.

Guinevere wants to curl up into a protective ball and scoot as close to the window as possible. The tension in the air is thick. She's not sure if the Marauders can feel it as well, or if she's just projecting her anxiety onto the other occupants of the compartment. Either way, she's cursing herself for not following Lily's advice and beating Dorcas to that seat.

 _You're a Gryffinfor_ , a little voice in her head reminds her. _Act like it._

Her eyes dart around the compartment. Remus is looking down at Stevie Wonder, who has made himself quite comfortable on his lap. Peter is glancing down, fidgeting nervously. He's obviously as uncomfortable with her presence as she is with his. But Peter, she has noticed, just seems uncomfortable in life in general.

Sirius is smirking at her.

Guinevere clears her throat and sits up straighter in her seat. She feels now as if she has something to prove to him and to herself. Sirius Black is not going to get under her skin. Not the way James always got under Lily's.

As if he read her thoughts, Sirius leans to the right, invading Guinevere's personal space. She lets out a strange grunt that is half-way between sounding startled and disgusted. She doesn't know which one she's feeling more of at the moment.

"So, Gwen-Of-Air," Sirius drawls out in a sickly sweet tone. "How was your summer?"

She feels her temper flaring up at the nickname that is unique to Sirius.

"Good," she answers curtly.

Growing up with a name as strange as Guinevere, she was used to her fair share of taunts and childish nicknames. In primary school, when she would come home in tears, her mother would always have the same response; she would set down the wooden spoon she was using to stir dinner, wipe her hands on her apron, lean down to her daughter's level, and tell her firmly,

" _You are named after a legendary British Queen who sacrificed everything for love, just as your father and I did for each other. Your name means something. Their words will only hurt you if you let them, Guiny. Be my brave little queen."_

After the first few years of primary school, she stopped letting anyone's words affect her, especially when it came to her name. She thought she had heard every single nickname in the book.

That is, before she met Sirius Black.

It was the third week of 1st year. She supposes he wasn't paying attention when she was sorted, because he didn't learn her name until weeks later.

It was late at night, and she was sitting with Lily in the Gryffindor common room with their noses buried in their potions books. The two had quickly bonded over their love for learning about everything that was magic, and when they heard they were going to have their first practical exam in a few weeks, they jumped at the chance to study together.

They were just about ready to call it a night when James Potter and Sirius Black stumbled down from the 1st year boy's dorm. James was clutching a cloak, grinning and whispering with Sirius. Guinevere and Lily immediately straightened in their seats and exchanged confused glances.

Guinevere doesn't know what gave her the boldness; maybe it was just eleven year old idiocy, or maybe it came from having a new friend to impress. Whatever it was that possessed her to ask the boys what they were doing in a scolding tone that rivaled that of Professor McGonagall's, she curses it to this day.

She can still remember how James and Sirius practically jumped out of their skins in surprise. Their eyes were wide and their spines were rigid, like children who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. A silence filled the common room for those few moments as the four of them remained frozen, staring at each other. The sound of the crackling fire seemed to be magnified in the silence. Finally, it was James who broke their standoff.

" _Wh-Who are you?"_ he choked out in a whisper, not trying to alert any of the students sleeping upstairs.

Lily sat up a little straighter when she introduced herself. Her voice was strong and confident, just like her personality. However, whatever boldness Guinevere had possessed seemed to escape her at that moment, and all she could do was mumble, _"Guinevere."_

Sirius's nose scrunched in confusion, his head tilting like a dog's did when they were trying to hear something better.

" _Gwen-Of-Air?"_ he repeated back, not at all making an effort to be quiet like James.

James snorted at Sirius's butchering of the name. This gave way to giggles, and eventually full-blown laughter from both boys. Guinevere buried her face in her hands to hide her red face, and Lily patted her friend on the back while hissing at the boys to shut up. From then on, it became the only thing Sirius called her the few times they held conversations.

Something about it annoyed her to no end. Maybe it was the way he said it, so mockingly sweet. Or maybe it was the fact that she could almost mistake it for her actual name if she didn't listen close enough. Whatever the reason, the nickname was always enough to put her in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

In the present day, Guinevere sighs and rests her head against the hard glass window.

"Hey Gwen-Of-Air! You want a pumpkin pasty?"

She groans.

Only another hour left.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Wednesday of the first week before Guinevere _finally_ had potions class.

Potions has always been Guinevere's best subject. It's very simple, to the point. As long as you follow the instructions to a tee, you'll get the desired outcome every time without fail. It has structure and logic, like the math classes she took in primary school. No matter your magical skill set, you should be able to, in theory, excel at potions.

It certainly doesn't hurt that she's one of Slughorn's favorite students.

She and Lily walk together to potions, their arms slung around each other's shoulders while they joke about a fight between a Gryffindor girl and a Slytherin girl earlier that day that in the Great Hall. It had been a frenzy of fists and hair flying, and when Flitwick had attempted to break it up, he had been dragged into it. Even some of the professors had to laugh at that.

"Flitwick's going to need a new robe," Guinevere giggles as she and Lily take their seats. "I'm surprised there was any of it left after that. Those girls must have had really sharp nails."

More people begin to file into the room. Some chatter away amongst themselves, while others are groaning out loud at the prospect of being back in potions class. Guinevere doesn't pay them much attention. Anyone in an O.W.L. level potions class should at least be _slightly_ competent.

"I never thought I would be able to say I know what's under his robes," Lily whispers. She gives an overly-dramatic shudder after her words, eliciting a chuckle out of both girls.

Without warning, Lily's body juts forward. Her bare knee glides across Guinevere's, and her face goes a pale red with what Guinevere can only assume is embarrassment mingled with anger.

"James!" she hisses, whipping her head around.

Sure enough, when Guinevere raises her head up, she sees James Potter by the side of their table. He's leaning into Lily on his elbow, shooting her one of his famously lopsided grins that makes Gryffindor girls go weak in the knees. Since 5th year, however, Guinevere has always been able to catch a glint of child-like excitement in his eyes when he throws that grin Lily's way. Something about that seems so sweet to her, the way James lights up in Lily's presence. She hopes that one day, someone will have a similar glint in their eyes when they look at her.

But for now, she's content with watching her friend's romance blossom. Even when said friend can't notice it herself.

James gives Lily a slight pout. Guinevere holds in a laugh. It makes him look like a puppy.

"You didn't notice me," he whines. "What else was I supposed to do?"

Lily rolls her eyes and gives his shoulder a shove. And when Lily gives someone a shove, she doesn't play around. The force of it knocks him off the table.

James, however, doesn't seem fazed.

"I have a name, you know," Lily deadpans. "You could use it to get my attention. Like normal people do."

He chuckles deeply just as Slughorn enters the room. Turning on his heel, he walks back to his table, briefly looking over his shoulder to give Lily a wink. Lily rolls her eyes and turns sharply in her chair.

Guinevere's eyes follow James all the way back to his table. She expects him to be sitting with Remus Lupin. He's the only other member of James's Marauder gang that she can think would take an O.W.L. level potions class.

Her large brown eyes settle on James as he plops down next to his partner in crime, Sirius Black.

Guinevere curses her luck and forces her eyes back down to her potions book. She can only hope that he doesn't use that little nickname in front of the entire class. It's bad enough having one person using it. She doesn't need anyone else in the class getting any ideas.

At last, Slughorn clears his throat in order to launch into his 'first day speech'. Guinevere sits up in her seat, welcoming the distraction. With Lily as her partner and Sirius Black far away from her on the other side of the classroom, this class should be one of the most enjoyable parts of her day.

She zones out through most of Slughorn's long-winded speech. She's been taking his class since her 1st year, and without fail, his speech structure mirrors the structure of his first day speech last year, and the year before that, and the year before _that_. It's always a jovial lecture about the class as a whole, the importance of potions, and the type of potions they'll be concocting this year. Then he usually gets sidetracked with a long-winded, mundane story of some sort. It's often one she's heard before as well.

So, when Slughorn takes in deep breath of air in preparation to begin, Guinevere's mind begins to wander.

As she always does during the first week, she wonders how her mother and stepfather are faring without her. They're not exactly the type of parents to smother her, but she _is_ their only child, and her absence is always very pronounced. Her mother has no one to gossip with while she cooks dinner. Her stepfather has no one to play a mock game of rugby with in the living room. While she's sure they're worried about her welfare, she worries about theirs tenfold.

With tensions rising, who knows how safe a muggle-born witch's parents really are?

"Very well! Please get together with your partners. Chop, chop!"

Guinevere flinches back into reality.

"Partners?" she hisses to Lily. "What is he talking about?"

Lily gives her a strange sort of look. Neither girls are the type to daydream during class. They've never had to whisper answers or words of advice to each other the second the teacher turns away. That's something they would usually expect out of Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald.

"He picked partners for the first potion," Lily explains as she gathers up her books. "We're making a Draught of Peace. I got stuck with Cordelia Jenkins. You're partnered with Sirius."

Guinevere's head whips around, her eyes darting to the table where Sirius sat with James, but his seat is now taken up by a _way_ too pleased Freyja Timbleton. Her long blonde hair falls into her face as she leans her elbows on the table and scoots closer to James. By the look of sheer panic on his face as he leans away from her, she can tell he wants no part of this partner work.

"Well isn't this a pleasant twist of fate?"

And she wants no part in it either.

Without even so much as a glance up in his direction, Guinevere stands up out of her seat and steps to the side to give Sirius room to stand. She feels the sleeve of his robe brush against the back of her hand as he slides in next to her. Though she's staring straight forward at Slughorn, she knows he has that infuriating smirk on his face. It seems to be permanently carved into his features.

She can't count the amount of times she's seen it up close while he hexes someone just for the fun of it.

"You'll find your ingredients on the table in front of you and the directions on page 135 in your book."

Guinevere flinches in surprise when she sees the ingredients required for the Draught of Peace sitting on the table in front of her, an area she is positive was clear just a few minutes before. After an entire summer living amongst muggles, she's still in the process of readjusting to sudden displays of magic.

Without so much as a glance towards Sirius, she flips her book open to the proper page and begins to read.

"Should I light the fire, Gwen-Of-Air?" Sirius asks.

Guinevere's head snaps up, her eyes landing on Sirius's wand pointing straight at the bottom of the cauldron. She scoots to the left on instinct.

In her 5th year, her overeager potions partner lit the cauldron before she had the chance to pull her long, chestnut brown hair out of the way. As a result, it caught on fire and had to be cut to just above her shoulders in order to look somewhat presentable again. Since then, she has kept it that length, just to avoid the embarrassment of having to use Amortentia to extinguish her hair again in the near future.

She had an unusual amount of invitations to Hogsmeade that weekend.

"As long as you promise to be careful," she answers.

Sirius rolls his eyes and mutters a quick spell. The flames shoot out of his wand and wrap around the rounded bottom of the cauldron, delicately crawling up the sides. Sirius pockets his wand and looks over Guinevere's shoulder to read her potions book.

Her body tenses up at the feeling of his soft breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. The knowledge that one turn of her head could result in their lips bumping together is, in her opinion, unsettling.

"We have to add powdered moonstone until it turns green," she declares, grabbing the vile of powdered moonstone off the table. "Everything will go by much quicker if I –,"

Her words catch in her throat when Sirius takes ahold of the vile, still grasped tightly in her hand. Her plump lips purse into a slight frown and her brows furrow. On instinct, she tries to yank the moonstone back, but Sirius holds on firmly.

"It's no secret you're a potions master," he admits with a slight grin. "But I'm still learning, and I can't do that if you do everything for me."

Her grip on the vial doesn't loosen. This could very well be a set-up for another one of his stupid pranks, and Guinevere doesn't fancy her chances of coming out of a potions blow-up with all her hair still intact.

Sirius must have seen the discomfort in her expression, because he offers her a wry smile.

"No funny business, I promise. I would never _dream_ of doing anything to sabotage your precious grade."

She rolls her eyes, but finally accepts his excuse. He seems genuine enough, and she has never really been a main target in his childish pranks. Well, that is, if she doesn't count that incident from 3rd year.

It took weeks to get that stain out of her robes.

He sprinkles the powdered moonstone until it turns bright green in hue, and she doesn't miss the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. The feeling of pride when one completes a potions step successfully is a small joy that she often takes for granted. Looking at Sirius's excitement, however, brings a small smile to Guinevere's face as well. She can't help it. Something about it is infectious.

When Sirius turns to her, she immediately wipes the smile off her face, looks back down at her potions book, and clears her throat.

"Stir until the potion turns blue."

Roughly 10 minutes and two arguments later, the potion is white in color and emits a silvery vapor. If Guinevere's book is telling her correctly, that means the potion should be perfect. She lets out a breath of relief as Sirius sets the stirrer down. Though she'd never admit it, she is a bit of a control freak. It took all her self-control not to let the anxious coil tightening in her stomach overtake her and push Sirius out of the way so she could mix the potion herself. This was a lesson in teamwork for her, she supposes.

After depositing the potion on Slughorn's desk for grading, she expects Sirius to have cleared out and gone back to James's side. But he's still standing by her seat, his arms crossed casually. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Lily shooting her a desperate look. The two girls excel in nonverbal communication, and Guinevere knows the message Lily is sending her; Cordelia Jenkins is chatting her ear off, but she can't escape to her own desk with Sirius still there. On the other side of the room, James is still attempting to fend off an insistent Freyja Timbleton and trying to catch Sirius's eye, presumably for his help. Sirius, however, remains oblivious.

 _Some friend_ he _is_ , Guinevere thinks, rolling her eyes.

"Class will be over soon, you know," she states after approaching him. He raises his eyebrows at her. She's sure she must be quite the sight to behold; her arms crossed, her chin up, and her eyes narrowed.

"And?"

She grits her teeth.

Never has a single word had such an ability to grate on her nerves.

" _And_ you should probably go back to your seat and gather up your things," she snaps back. "Besides, it looks like your friend needs your help over there."

Sirius's eyes dart over to where James is slowly building a physical barrier of books to keep Freyja's advances at bay. The curly haired boy just chuckles and shakes his head.

"If he didn't fancy Evans so much, he might actually be enjoying the attention," he whispers over to her, as if it's a secret and not common knowledge throughout the entire school. She just shakes her head and gathers up her things.

A bell chime finally sounds from above, dismissing them.

"I'll see you later, Gwen-Of-Air," Sirius murmurs, his mouth right next to her ear. She whips her head around in order to tell him to _stop calling her that for the love of Merlin_ , but he's already disappeared faster than a cloud of smoke.

She purses her lips together in annoyance and marches over to Lily, aggressively linking their arms together and pulling her out of the classroom.

"What has _your_ panties in a twist?" Lily asks as she stumbles over her own feet. Guinevere sighs and loosens her grip on her best friend's arm. So maybe she overreacted, but she can't help that it's Sirius Black's ultimate goal in life to get a rise out of her.

"Nothing," she replies, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm fine. How did the partner work go for you?"

Lily groans and throws her head back.

"Awful. Cordelia added the unicorn hair too early and the entire potion was ruined. She wouldn't listen to a thing I said. All she wanted to talk about was the next Hogsmeade trip. What about you? Was working with Sirius what got you in this mood?"

Guinevere mulls it over. Actually _working_ with Sirius wasn't half bad. He was eager to learn and, for the most part, cooperative. She's ashamed to admit that she had always assumed that he wasn't interested at all in his schoolwork. He and his friends have always seemed to have _different_ priorities, like pranks and hexing people. It never occurred to her that he could be mischievous _and_ clever.

Her anger towards Sirius is slowly turning into anger at herself.

"No, it was… fine."

Guinevere can tell by the look on Lily's face that she doesn't buy it, but like a good friend, she doesn't call her out on her lie. Instead, she links their arms again and strolls to lunch with her.

"So, about that Hogsmeade trip…"


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe you're going to Hogsmeade with _James Potter_!"

Lily rolls her eyes at Guinevere, passing her the strawberry preserves.

"I told you _days_ ago," she points out.

Guinevere spreads the strawberry preserves over her toast, shaking her head in exasperation. She has no idea how Lily can be so casual about this. Of course, she saw this relationship coming. She's seen it coming since last year. But she didn't think Lily would agree to a date with him so quickly. Though, she supposes, it had to happen eventually. The game of cat and mouse Lily and James played throughout the years was like the Holy Roman Empire; it crashed hard, but oh was it glorious while it lasted.

"Are you going with anyone?" Lily asks nonchalantly while reaching for the butter. Guinevere snorts in response and shoves a bit of her toast in her mouth. Of course no one asked her, and she didn't expect them to either.

Guinevere isn't one to wallow in self-pity. She knows she's not beautiful by any means, at least not in the conventional way, but she likes her quirky appearance. Her nose leans a little too far to the left, her hair is a little too straight, her eyes a little too big and too brown, and her thighs a little too thick. She isn't ugly, just… normal. Normal enough to be overlooked by most boys in her year. At least, by all the ones she's interested in.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Lily laughs. "I guess you'll be hanging with Marlene and Alice?"

Guinevere sighs dramatically and shakes her head.

"Nope," she replies, popping the 'p'. "Alice's boyfriend Frank has a day off of Auror training so he's meeting up with her at Honeyduke's, and Marlene will probably be off snogging with that boy in her Herbology class the entire time."

Lily gives her a sympathetic look and pushes her empty plate away.

"Go stag, then," she insists. "You'll have just as much fun on your own. Maybe you'll meet a nice bloke who will chase after _you_ for seven years."

Guinevere barks out a laugh and nudges Lily hard with her shoulder. Though she loved watching James and Lily's romance grow from hatred to a mutual crush, she'd rather swallow a fatal dose of botched wolfsbane than deal with the constant push and pull routine for so long. She's not a patient person. If she wants something, she'll jump on it immediately and without thinking of the consequences.

As if sensing the line of conversation was about him, James Potter plops down in the spot next to Lily with a large, toothy smile on his face.

"How are you ladies doing on this fine morning?" he asks in such a cheery tone that Guinevere can hardly believe it's really James Potter. He's got that same twinkle in his hazel eyes, as he always has when he's looking at Lily, but it's somehow brighter. Guinevere didn't think that was possible. Every inch of him seems to vibrate with excited energy. Even Lily, who's normally so cool around him, smiles in response.

"Well, we _were_ doing good until we were so rudely interrupted," Lily teases, taking a sip of her tea. James pouts, looking remarkably like a puppy in Guinevere's eyes.

"Oh come on, Lily Flower. I've waited _years_ for this date. Let me be excited."

Lily rolls her eyes, but there's a tinge of a smile in her eyes. Guinevere smirks and looks down at her plate. She feels as if she's intruding on a private moment.

"How're you doing, Guin?"

Guinevere looks up and smiles at James. The two have never talked much, but after 4 years of calling her Driscoll every time their paths crossed, he started calling her Guin midway through 5th year. She assumes he's heard Lily referring to her by the nickname. She's just grateful he doesn't copy his best friend's habit of embarrassing nicknames.

"I'm doing pretty good, thanks for asking," she responds, pushing her plate away next to Lily's. "I'll be doing better when you finally take _this_ one off my hands."

James eyes flit over to Lily and he gives her a big grin. Guinevere snorts when he extends his hand to her like a knight offering his hand to a young maiden to lift her onto his stead. She can almost forget he's not a brave knight but instead a nervous seventh year who has finally nabbed the girl of his dreams.

James positively beams when Lily takes his hand. He was obviously expecting a response along the lines of "sod off, Potter".

"You'll be okay with me skipping out on you, Guin?" Lily asks quietly. Guinevere smiles at her friend. It's just like Lily to always think of the needs of others before her own. But Guinevere just waves her off.

"I'll be fine. You two run along now. And don't forget, I want to be the maid of honor at the wedding!"

James laughs and gives her a thumbs up with his free hand as he stands with Lily.

"You'll be the first one to know when I propose!" he promises. Lily smacks him upside the head.

The soon-to-be couple standing up and leaving the Great Hall seems to set off a chain reaction. A massive amount of couples take this time to skip off with each other, leaving the Great Hall mostly abandoned, save for the few slow eaters.

Guinevere drags a finger across the rim of her tea cup and idly wonders whether or not it's worth it to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. She still has some candy leftover from her last trip to Honeydukes, she's not one to frequent Zonko's, and she has no one to sit back and drink a butterbeer with at The Three Broomsticks. Still, it seems like a waste to spend her weekend in the common room with no one but some first and second years to keep her company.

Fur grazes her leg as Stevie Wonder decides to make his presence known. Unfazed by the plates and glasses still on the table, he leaps up to walk across it. His strides are graceful and calculated as he stalks across the messy table. When he makes it to the other side, he leaps into the lap of a very stunned Remus Lupin.

Guinevere glares at her traitor cat. Ever since the train ride, Stevie Wonder has decided that Remus Lupin is his new favorite person, trumping even her. As long as she wants to keep the backstabbing cat, it seems that Remus will be a permanent fixture in her life.

An idea occurs to her, getting her to stand to her feet. Maybe Stevie Wonder is onto something.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she walks around the giant table to approach the remaining Marauders. Remus is reluctantly petting the content feline on his lap, Sirius is laughing at his friend's position, and Peter is glaring daggers at the tabby. He must not be a cat person, Guinevere supposes. She finds that funny, considering she always thought he looked like a rat.

She stands behind them and clears her throat politely. All three boys turn their heads to face her. Remus and Peter both give her polite smiles while Sirius just raises an eyebrow.

"Do you need something, Gwen-Of-Air?"

She clenches her fists.

"Not from _you_ ," she shoots back before turning her full attention to his scarred friend. "Remus, would you mind accompanying me to Hogsmeade?"

The boys blink at her in unison, and for a second, she's scared she may have implied a romantic interest in Remus. She has none, and truthfully, she doesn't see herself ever developing one.

"Just as friends, of course," she rushes to say. "I mean, I don't have anyone else to go with. Lily is going with James and Marlene has a 'date' and Alice is meeting up with her boyfriend and Dorcas has to stay behind to study Divination because she did awful on the last –,"

"Of course I'll go with you," he cuts her off.

Sirius and Peter turn to their friend, their jaws dropped in an almost comical manner. Guinevere can't help but feel slightly smug. If James can steal away Lily, then she can steal away Remus. It's only fair.

"But Moony!" Peter sputters.

"We always go together!" Sirius finishes for him.

Remus smiles at his friends as he carefully removes Stevie Wonder from his lap, stands up from his seat, and offers Guinevere his hand. It's not nearly in the same way as James offered his hand to Lily. It's more reserved, more friendly. It's a gesture for friendship as opposed to romance. Guinevere smiles as she takes it. His hand is warm, calloused, and very much to her relief, dry.

"After you, Miss Driscoll."

* * *

The two spend most of the walk to and around Hogsmeade in silence. It's not awkward for Guinevere, and she doesn't sense any tension coming from Remus as well. Neither are the type to speak thoughtlessly. They save it for when they actually have something valuable to contribute. She admires that quality in Remus. He has a silent strength whereas most Gryffindors choose to be loud and brash. It's one of the reasons why she's remained on friendly terms with him these past few years, more so than the other Marauders. He's easy to get along with.

"Want to stop at the Three Broomsticks first?" he asks, breaking the silence.

She fingers the end of her robe as she opens her mouth to respond, but a bump against her shoulder causes the words to catch in her throat. Her other shoulder rams into Remus, and she has to grab onto his robes to steady herself. She feels him grip her shoulder on instinct so neither of them will take a tumble to the ground.

Guinevere gains her bearings and searches for what knocked her down. She sees a boy in Slytherin robes temporarily stopped in front of her and Remus. She recognizes him from her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. His head is turned to face her, his lips curled into a nasty sneer.

"Watch where you're going, _mudblood_."

The word being spat at her doesn't make her blink twice. She just gives the boy a wide smile. In the past few years, she's found that being kind to those who are cruel to her is the best way to unnerve them. Sure enough, the Slytherin boy crinkles his nose in distaste and continues walking.

She lets go of Remus and dusts herself off, giving him an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry about that," she apologizes. He waves off her apology. It's only now that she notices how much the incident seemed to bother him. It's a subtle difference, but she can sense the tension rolling off him in waves. His fist is clenched at his side so hard that his knuckles are entirely white.

"How are you able to take that so well?" he asks. "All those ignorant prats who hate you because of who you are?"

She blinks. It's not something she's thought about much since the first time she heard the 'm' word so many years ago. The first time the insult was hurled at her in 2nd year, she cried for nearly the rest of the day. In her 3rd year, she would just frown deeply. In her 4th year, she would snap back at her tormentors with something along the lines of 'sod off'. In her 5th year, she would ignore them completely. It was in her 6th year that she discovered that smiling at them threw them off.

But she doesn't know where along the lines it stopped getting under her skin.

"It's not the word that bothers me," she admits. "It's just a word. It only has the power you give it. What bothers me is what it says about my future."

Remus furrows his brow in confusion.

"What _does_ it say about your future?" he asks.

Guinevere purses her lips and tries to collect her fragmented thoughts into words. At least, words that won't terrify the good natured Remus Lupin.

"It says that my future is bleak," she responds quietly. "He's gaining more followers with each passing day. Every year, I hear the word more than I heard it the year before. It says that if our world continues down the path that its been on, I probably won't live to see my twenty-first birthday."

She can feel Remus's gaze, but she can't bring herself to look over at him and see any sadness in his eyes. She hates when people dwell on things that cannot be changed.

"But things can only get better, right?" she rushes out. "There's no use worrying about life's 'maybes' or 'what ifs'. That's what my mum always says."

Remus chuckles softly next to her, and the two continue walking side by side. The tension is lifted.

"To answer your question, yes," she quips. He gives her a quizzical stare.

"What question?"

She grins and grabs his hand, stopping him in front of The Three Broomsticks.

"Yes, I want to stop here first."

His eyes briefly flit down to where their hands are joined, before he looks back up to meet her eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile. It's a large, teeth baring, genuine smile; it's unlike the small, restrained grins he's been giving her all day.

Guinevere has a feeling there's much about Remus Lupin that he keeps hidden.

"After you," he murmurs, politely outstretching his hand for her to enter.

She doesn't have to be told twice.

She immediately darts inside and breathes in the familiar scent of spice and firewhiskey. The inn is filled with lively chatter coming from all directions. The tables are full of wizards in the middle of animated conversations by the dim candlelight. The sights, smells, and noises should be enough to overwhelm her, but it proves to be a comfort instead. It feels like coming home from a long trip.

She and Remus make their way to one of the few free tables in the pub, smack dab between two tables full of Hogwarts students. It takes her aback when Remus pulls a chair out for her. She sits down slowly and gives him a mumbled 'thank you'.

"Would you like a butterbeer?" he asks. "I was about to order one myself."

She nods and looks down to dig into the small purse she brought with her.

"Sure, let me just get a few sickles out of my bag," she tells him. She briefly wonders how much money she brought with her. She wants to make a quick stop at Honeydukes before the day is over.

"No, I'll pay for it, I insist," he responds quickly.

Guinevere snaps her head up and opens her mouth to argue with him, but he's already disappeared into the sea of people. She briefly debates getting up and tracking him down before she sighs and drops the sickles back into her purse, snapping it closed.

She hates owing people. Even when her friends insist there's no reason to pay them back five knuts, her pride prevents her from listening. Especially when those friends aren't in the position to be spending too much money.

From the second-hand robes he wears and the dusty textbooks he carries around, she gets the feeling Remus is one of those people.

She leans back in her chair, waiting patiently for his return. She tilts her head over to the right to peer at the students sitting at the table next to her. A Hufflepuff girl and a Gryffindor boy sit on opposite sides of the table. Both are red faced and scowling deeply. The girl throws her hands up in the air and yells at her companion,

"Well how was _I_ supposed to know those were puking pastilles, Thomas?!"

Guinevere covers up a snort with a fake cough and turns away from the squabbling pair. She turns her head to glance at the table on her left.

Two Slytherin and a Ravenclaw sit with their spines rigid and pressed against the backs of their seats. Their faces are pale; it's the type of pale where Guinevere isn't sure if they're nervous, or if they're naturally lacking any pigment. They're whispering amongst themselves, so their voices are lost amongst the normal chaos of the pub.

Guinevere finds herself disappointed that she can't eavesdrop on the conversation, but she quickly scolds herself. Sneakiness is a bad habit of hers. Marlene sometimes like to tease that she should have been sorted in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor with how much she inserts herself into situations that don't concern her. It's a habit she's been trying to break. Still, she continues to stare at the boys in the most discrete manner.

None can be much older than 16. The only Ravenclaw is a tall blond boy with sharp, unforgiving features and cheekbones that Guinevere feels would cut her hand if she dared to touch them. His beady eyes are narrowed to slits. He gives off an air of unpleasantness and seems to be the only boy at the table who isn't nervous.

The Slytherin boy sitting opposite the Ravenclaw boy is a pudgy, stout, red faced bloke. Guinevere finds herself comparing him to a cherry red tomato. His hands are gesturing wildly, his brow furrowed. Guinevere can't decide if he's angry or if that is just his natural state.

The third boy is blocked by his chubby friend, and Guinevere has to crane her head around to catch a glimpse of him. When he leans forward and she finally catches his full profile, she nearly gasps.

For a split second, she could have sworn she was looking at Sirius Black.

The boy has the same fair skin, the same dark, glossy hair, the same grey eyes, and the same haughty good looks. However, she thinks better of her assessment when she realizes he's smaller and scrawnier than the arrogant Gryffindor she knows. Besides, Sirius wouldn't be caught dead in Slytherin robes. The doppelgänger's face is flushed and dark circles line his sunken under eyes. The poor boy looks like he hasn't slept since school began.

 _Doesn't Sirius have a younger brother?_ She asks herself. She swears she remembers another boy by the name of Black being sorted in her 2nd year. What was his first name again…?

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting for long."

Guinevere turns away from the table beside her and gives her full attention to Remus. Her cheeks burn in humiliation at being caught red-handed, but it doesn't seem to her that he noticed. He's smiling softly and carrying two butterbeers. Guinevere murmurs a thank you and politely plucks one out of his hands.

"I was about ready to get up and leave," she jokes good naturedly. Her mind is still racing with endless possibilities as to what those boys could be whispering about so fiercely.

"Sorry, I got side-tracked a bit," Remus admits with an amused grin. "I ran into James and Lily snogging at the bar."

Guinevere lets out a loud, bark-like laugh and sets her butterbeer down on the table. Lily won't be hearing the end of this when the two get back to school.

"Well it was about time, wasn't it?" she asks rhetorically. Remus lets out a breathy laugh and raises his mug.

"To James and Lily," he proposes jokingly. She taps their mugs together, echoing his toast.

Whatever those boys were planning is pushed to the back of her mind as she celebrates the newest couple at Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 4

_It's Quidditch day._

Guinevere jumps out of bed in the morning with a smile already stretching her cheeks to the point of pain. She thinks she must have been smiling in her sleep. It had been a long, restless night of her waking up every hour or so and forcing herself to go back to sleep. Just the knowledge that she'd be on the Quidditch pitch come that morning made her feel like a kid on Christmas Eve. Her body refused to relax.

The sun is just barely peeking through the windows when she starts pulling on her Gryffindor jumper and slacks. She's vibrating with excitement at the prospect of packing on all her gear and chasing after the Quaffle. She hasn't been on a broom since the end of the last school year and she's going through withdrawal.

She glides across the dorm room, humming Dancing Queen as she tries to avoid waking her bunk mates. Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Alice are all sprawled out on their beds, dead to the world. The four of them probably won't wake up for several more hours, and Guinevere doesn't plan on risking the wrath of Marlene when she is woken up early on the weekend.

After a futile search through her chest of clothes, Guinevere spots her boots peeking out from underneath Alice's bed. She has no idea how they got there, but she does know that she needs to grab those boots without waking Alice. If she wakes Alice, she'll risk waking up the rest of her mates.

Getting down onto her knees, she slowly begins slipping the brown boots out from under Alice's bed. They make a faint scrapping sound as the drag along the wooden floor. She has them half way out when a strangled snore makes her head snap up in alarm.

Alice's eyes are half open and red from exhaustion. Her slow gaze eventually settles on Guinevere. She blinks a few times, as if she doesn't know what she's seeing.

"Guin…?" she whispers, her voice heavy with sleep. Guinevere freezes in her place.

"Um…" she begins, stalling to come up with a plan. "You… You're dreaming, Alice. Just dreaming."

Alice blinks at her blearily, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"I'm… dreaming?"

Guinevere nods as she slips on her boots.

"Just a dream," she confirms. "Now go back to sleep."

Alice nods in an absent minded manner that makes Guinevere believe she doesn't realize what she's doing.

"Yeah… Yeah, sleep…"

She closes her eyes and within seconds, she begins snoring lightly. Guinevere lets out a relieved sigh and gets back on her feet. The smile that had previously left her face suddenly returns, bigger and brighter than ever.

It's a ridiculous hour and she's exhausted beyond belief, but she's happier than she has been in weeks.

* * *

James Potter claps his hands together. The sound resonates throughout the entire pitch, creating an echo. No one speaks. James has their complete attention. Even Guinevere and several other repeated players who know the drill already are completely rapt, waiting for their captain's next words.

"I see some old mates in the crowd today," James announces. "As you know, your previous position is not guaranteed. Every year we have a new batch of talented Quidditch players who deserve a go at this as much as you do. So, if you want to keep your spot, you'll have to work for it."

Guinevere hears a newcomer next to her gulp loudly. Poor kid must be a 3rd year. No 1st or 2nd years dare to even _try_ and join the team.

She glances up at the goal hoop in front of her to see it's already being guarded by Alfie, a 5th year boy who made the team last year. She narrows her eyes in suspicion. Why is there already a Keeper posted at the goal? Surely James didn't select them already.

"First up, Chasers!" James calls out, throwing a Quaffle up into the air. Guinevere doesn't think twice about hopping on her broom and flying into the air. It's just like James to expect them to be ready at a moment's notice. Be as observant as a Centaur when Mercury is in retrograde, he always says.

She flies straight for the Quaffle and snatches it out of the air, holding it to her chest greedily. On the pitch, all her manners fly away faster than the Bludger coming for a Beater's jaw. She leans forward on her broom as she clings tighter to the Quaffle.

A blond-haired boy rams into her side in an attempt to make her give up her prize, but her arms will not give. She leans to the right and knocks the front of his broom off to the side, loosening his grip and causing him to lose his bearings. She doesn't bother to check if he has fallen off his broom as she zooms right past him.

Time seems to slow down as she faces Alfie, who guards his hoop as fiercely as he does during actual games. But while he has tenacity, Guinevere beats him in experience. Her strategy has remained consistent throughout the three years she has been playing, and it has yet to fail her.

She tosses the Quaffle up into the air and turns around, bringing her broom in contact with the ball. Alfie dives to the right, but it's all in vain. His hands only brush the Quaffle before it falls through the hoop. A satisfied smile spreads across Guinevere's face as she dives to catch the Quaffle once more.

Loud clapping resounds from the stands, making her whip her head around.

For a split second, she thinks maybe one of her friends decided to get up early and support her, but when the early morning sun illuminates the figure on the sidelines, she realizes just how early it is. She doubts her friends are awake, much less taking time out of their day to see her fly around on a broom.

The wind is knocked out of her when the tail end of somebody's broom rams into her side. She has to cling onto her broom to keep from falling over. The pain is enough to make her grimace, but she's had worse. It's nothing she can't deal with.

One of her competitors zooming by her while holding onto the Quaffle, however, _isn't_ something she can deal with.

By the end of the tryouts, Guinevere is covered from head to toe in sweat. Her jumper sticks to her skin in the most uncomfortable places, only made worse by the heavy gear still strapped to her body. Her legs burn from keeping them bent at the knees for such a long period of time. Her arms are stiff from clinging to her broom for dear life.

She needs a long dip in a hot bath. Maybe she'll be able to convince Alice to massage the knots out of her shoulders. She's always been her most sympathetic friend.

She stumbles across the pitch, gripping her broom tightly in her fist. The few 3rd years talk amongst themselves in hushed whispers, no doubt debating whether or not their tryout was good enough to qualify them for the team. The 4th years looked slightly more relaxed, but only just slightly. It is only the former team members who seem relaxed enough to make small talk.

The tryout went horribly, in her opinion. After the ease with which she made the first goal, she expected a flawless performance out of herself. It's her own fault for becoming distracted. She's usually able to block out the anxiety provoking noises of a boisterous crowd. Maybe it was because it was only one clap, or maybe it was because tryouts are an especially nerve wracking event. Whatever it was, it caused her to lose her focus.

In a matter of seconds, she went from tossing the Quaffle through the hoop to fighting tooth and nail for possession of the ball. After losing it once, it was a struggle to get it back. Her performance wasn't _bad_ , but it wasn't flawless. And that is all that matters. She accepts nothing less than perfection.

"Oi! Prongs! Did it really have to drag on so long?"

Guinevere barely spares a glance in James's direction as the voice that she recognizes as belonging to Sirius Black draws near. She should have guessed he'd be here. Wherever James is, his curly haired friend shadows him.

She stops dead in her tracks.

The clap from the stands. It wasn't one of her friends. It was one of _James's_ friends. It was Sirius. He was the dark haired figure she only caught a small glimpse of due to the glare of the sun.

The stiffness in her bones disappears as she marches over to Sirius Black. He and James seem to be so absorbed in conversation, they don't notice the red faced girl glaring up at them.

"Black!" she squawks. She intended for her voice to come out strong and confident, not small and mousy. Her face heats up even more as she realizes how pathetic she must sound.

Sirius turns his head away from his previous conversation, looking down at Guinevere with a raised eyebrow. Despite her being 165 centimeters tall, he makes her feel so incredibly small.

"What?" he asks simply in a clipped tone. His irritation is almost enough to make her go running to the Gryffindor common room with her broom between her legs, but she forces herself to raise her chin up higher. Anger propels her on.

"You clapped," she states simply.

Sirius squints and tilts his head, looking remarkably like a dog trying to hear something better.

"What?"

"You. Clapped."

The irritation on his face melts into amusement, which just serves to anger Guinevere further. He never takes her seriously, no matter how angry she is. He treats all their interactions like a game of cat and mouse in which she is the helpless, unwilling little mouse and he is the cat, toying with her as he pleases.

"You distracted me!" she squeaks, her irritation rising. As soon as he opens his mouth to reply, she knows it's going to push her temper over the edge. Dread sets in.

"That's what you got your wand in a knot about?" he asks. "Did it occur to you that maybe it might be your _own_ fault you lost the Quaffle?"

Guinevere's entire body quivers in rage. Her jaw clenches. Her fingers tingle. It's a kind of emotion she rarely experiences, and something that would usually have her in bitter, angry tears. But she isn't about to cry here, in front of her team captain and her tormentor. Instead, she does the second-best thing.

She wheels back and punches Sirius in the jaw.

As soon as her fist connects with his jawline, she knows she's made a terrible mistake. It's too late to pull away now, so she follows all the way through. Sirius's head whips back, and Guinevere nearly falls flat on her face as soon as her fist loses contact. The sickening sound of flesh connecting with flesh rings in her ears. Otherwise, the entire pitch is silent.

Guinevere's eyes widen as she stares down at the grass, not daring to look up and face Sirius or James. She's breathing heavily and shaking out her sore fist. Little rings of blood are formed around each knuckle. She can just barely see bruises beginning to blossom. She must have punched him harder than she intended.

It's all too much to take in. She can't stand the shame or horror blooming in her chest.

Guinevere promptly turns on her heels and rushes away from the field.

* * *

In Hogwarts, broom closets are a popular spot for couples to stop for a quick snog between classes. They're populous and usually remain unchecked by professors.

Guinevere, for one, doesn't understand the appeal. They're uncomfortable for one person to stand in, much less two. They smell like the body odor of an entire Quidditch team condensed into a small space. Maybe that has something to do with the dirt and cobwebs that collect on the floor. The closets look like they haven't been cleaned since Merlin was a student.

Yet Guinevere is much more comfortable crouching down in a broom closet than risking a run in with Sirius Black in the Gryffindor common room.

She has only punched someone two other times in her life. The first time was when she was in primary school, when her accidental bouts of magic began to manifest. A boy in her class taunted her when objects began inexplicably exploding around her after a particularly upsetting day, getting her in trouble with the teacher. He called her bad luck, an eejit. She threw a hard right-hook right between his eyes. Needless to say, she got into even worse trouble with the teacher.

The second time was in her 5th year at Hogwarts, and it was entirely by accident. While she was getting changed after Quidditch practice, a male member of her team thought it would be funny to sneak up behind her and poke her sides to scare her. Adrenaline was already pumping through her veins, so when her mind perceived an attack, her automatic reaction was to turn around and punch her 'attacker' in the face. Poor Jack never saw it coming.

After both those incidents, she cried out of shame and horror at hurting another human being. She hates hurting others, unless it's on the Quidditch pitch, of course.

This time is no different.

Guinevere wipes the dry tear tracts off her cheeks. Despite all Sirius's annoying qualities, she never wanted to hurt him. She couldn't even stand to attend dinner that night. Nothing stays a secret for long at Hogwarts. She decided she would rather go hungry for a night than sit in the Great Hall and pretend like she couldn't hear the whispers coming from her classmates.

Thus, she ended up in her current situation, curled up in a broom closet, praying that no couples will stumble in.

The general hustle and bustle outside the closet has slowly died down, giving Guinevere an idea about how late it is. She begins to formulate a plan; if she rushes to the dorms as quickly and quietly as possible, she'll avoid getting in trouble for being up after curfew _and_ inquiries from her classmates about this morning's 'incident'.

With her goal in mind, Guinevere slips out of the broom closet and quietly shuts the door behind her. Never has she been so grateful for the air in the castle. Anything is better than the thick, stuffy air she was forced to breathe in that closet.

She glides down the long corridor as quickly as possible. Her footfalls are nearly silent, not even worthy of an echo. She thanks Merlin that she can't hear Ms. Norris prowling around the corridor. Guinevere is usually a lover of all cats, but even she can't stand the vile creature. Stevie Wonder isn't too fond of her either.

 _Where is that little traitor anyways?_ she asks herself as she's nearing the stairs. _Probably in the company of Remus Lupin._

"Where is it we're going?"

Guinevere jumps back against the stone wall, swallowing a gasp.

Somebody else is up.

She presses her body as far into the shadows as it will go, until the stones dig into her back painfully. Though she doubts anybody who is also breaking the rules would tattle on her for doing the same, she has spent the entire day avoiding people. She doesn't plan to stop now.

"You'll see when we get there. Now quit being a nancy and follow me."

Two figures step into the moonlight, illuminating green and silver robes. Slytherins.

"I'm not a nancy. Let's just get there before Filch catches us, okay?"

Guinevere instantly recognizes the shorter of the two boys as the dark-haired boy she saw in Hogsmeade who shares an uncanny resemblance to Sirius. In the light, however, she can see the slight differences. His eyes are dark and serious, as opposed to Sirius's light, ever twinkling grey. His cheekbones are slightly higher, and his face is set in a stern expression that Guinevere can't ever recall seeing on Sirius's face.

Despite the differences in their features, both have the good looks the Black family is so well renowned for.

The other boy Guinevere instantly recognizes as Mulciber. Her nose crinkles in disgust and she has to grip her wand tightly to resist from hexing him where he stands. Mary has never quite been the same since that beast of a boy attacked her in 5th year. She still refuses to tell anybody what exactly happened, but whatever it was earned him a burning hatred from all the Gryffindor girls.

Guinevere holds her breath as the two walk down the hallway she just came from. Her mind races with possibilities of what the two could be doing sneaking around the castle at night. Some rational part of her insists that the two are probably just up to get a late-night snack.

But the kitchens are in the opposite direction.

She sucks in a deep breath.

The way Guinevere sees it, she has two options:

She can rush back to her dorm as she planned. She can jump into bed and put this entire day behind her. And most importantly, she can mind her own business.

Or she can satisfy her curiosity. She can follow the two Slytherin boys and see what they're up to at such a late hour. She may even have something to report back to Sirius about his brother that will make up for punching him in the face.

One option is smart, while the other is reckless.

As usual, her body has already decided for her. She's silently sliding along the wall in the direction she just came from. This is a bad idea. This is an awful idea. She's mentally screaming at herself to stop now, to turn back, to run to her dorm and curl up under her covers. But she's not one to go only half-way. She dives in head first.

She creeps along the edge of the corridor, staying hidden by shadows while keeping a good amount of distance between herself and the boys. If they were any closer, she fears they would hear her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. If Mulciber finds her, a muggleborn, following him late at night with no witnesses around but a friend of his…

Guinevere does not plan on finding out what Mary went through. Not this way.

Even as the two dart into an empty classroom, Guinevere doesn't allow herself to leave the safety of the shadows. She takes each step slowly and silently in fear of being heard. She hardly dares to breathe as she settles in next to the entrance to the empty classroom where she learns potions every week. The thought of anything even remotely sinister happening in there, in her safe haven, sends a shiver up her spine.

Letting out a silent breath, she makes a pitiful attempt to calm herself.

 _It's probably nothing_ , she tells herself. _They're just knocking over some potion bottles or stealing some unicorn hairs. It's just general mischief._

Guinevere turns her head to peer into the doorway.

 _This… This does_ not _look like general mischief._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: My first author's note on this story! Aaaaaahhhh! Hey guys, sorry I was gone so long! I'm sure EVERYONE says this, but life has been super hectic. In the time I was gone I applied to and got accepted to college so there's that. It was only part of the reason I was gone though. But enough of that: let's get into the story!**

* * *

Guinevere's heart pounds in her chest.

She shouldn't be here. No matter who she is seen by, there will be consequences. She isn't even sure she wants to witness whatever is going down. However, she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her. A morbid curiosity keeps her firmly glued to her spot.

The potions classroom is far from deserted. Along with the two boys who just entered, there are five or so people standing in a semi-circle, all of them leaning forward on their heels. They're all illuminated by the light of a few torches one of them must have stolen. Guinevere feels as if she's intruding on a tense moment. They all seem coiled like snakes, ready to strike at any moment.

The boy who Guinevere previously recognized as Sirius's little brother stands in the center of the semi-circle, looking ready to jump out of skin. She can just barely see his silhouette illuminated by torchlight. He trembles almost imperceptibly and clings to his wand for dear life.

"Are you sure you can _handle_ this, Black?" asks a condescending voice from outside the circle. Guinevere recognizes the limp, greasy hair and hook nose. Her lips curl downwards in a frown.

 _Snape_.

"O-Of course I can," the younger Black stutters out. "You forget yourself, Severus. I'm the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. You need not question my where my loyalties lie."

"It isn't your loyalties he's questioning," another much deeper voice pipes up. "It's your stomach, boy."

Light snickers spread throughout the circle. Guinevere can see the dimly lit form of the Black boy tense. Whether it's in anger or humiliation, she doesn't know. If he's anything like his older brother, it's most likely the former.

"I assure you my stomach is strong enough to handle whatever comes my way," he snaps, though his tone lacks any real malice. "Now let's just get on with it."

Another mutter comes from the circle, but it's too low for Guinevere to hear. Frowning, she leans in closer to the doorframe. She knows she's risking discovery, but she feels compelled to listen in on the conversation. Their words seems to have some heavy implications. Eavesdropping feels like the right thing to do in this situation. It's just her duty as a responsible Hogwarts student to make sure no dark magic is occurring after hours, right?

A loud meow proceeds a furry body rubbing against her legs. She jumps back further against the stone wall in surprise, banging the back of her head against it in the process. The pain slithers up from the back of her head to the front, coiling around her forehead in the form of a searing headache. She has to slap a hand over her mouth to prevent any gasps of pain from escaping her lips.

"What was that?" a sharp voice asks from inside the classroom.

Guinevere looks down at her feet, and just as she guessed, Stevie Wonder is pressed up against her cloak. He's looking up at her with those big green eyes that seem to silently communicate very human-like thoughts.

' _Where were you?'_ Guinevere can imagine him thinking. _'I haven't seen you all day. I was worried.'_

"It's just a cat," one of the occupants in the room insists.

"But where there's a cat, its owner is bound to close behind," another voice chimes in.

Guinevere doesn't have to be told twice. She kneels down, scoops Stevie Wonder up in her arms, and starts power-walking towards the stairs. She moves with a kind of grace she wasn't even aware she had, all to keep the sound of her footfalls from echoing throughout the empty halls. Quietly, she curses herself for being so stupid and invasive in the first place. She should just stick to the policy she always followed in muggle schools; if you see anything even vaguely out of place, walk briskly in the other direction.

Albeit, that was usually because she was the _cause_ of it, but it's still a good policy to follow.

"Well if you're so concerned, then _you_ check it out yourself."

The deep voice bounces off the walls behind her. Heavy footsteps echo, slowly growing louder. Guinevere can just barely hear it over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She knows the boys she saw in the potions room are not the merciful types.

Stevie Wonder meows loudly in his owner's arms, rubbing his head against her chest. Though Guinevere usually revels in the finnicky cat's affections, now is most certainly not the time.

"I heard it again!" the voice shouts this time. Guinevere can hear the footsteps gaining in pace and volume, coming closer to her. She briefly wonders if they can hear her rapid heartbeat as she rushes up the main stairs.

Stevie Wonder begins to grow restless in his owner's arms and attempts to wiggle his way out. Guinevere curses under her breath and readjusts the fussing cat. She briefly wonders why she hasn't abandoned the cat yet to save her own skin. It's a testament to her love for the horrid thing that she won't leave him to the wolves like he would do to her.

The footsteps are growing closer and closer, until she's sure they're right behind her.

"There!" the voice shouts again, louder this time. "There they are!"

Feet begin pounding up the stairs, and Guinevere knows she must think fast. The staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room is still swinging around, Stevie Wonder is clawing at her arms, and she's a few steps away from getting hexed out of her wits. All that comes to mind is her mother's voice, telling her to be brave.

Without a second thought, she drops Stevie Wonder and lunges for the moving stairs.

Her knee connects with a hard stone step and scrapes upward, sending a sharp pain shooting up her leg. She hisses as she stands up on shaky feet. She can wallow in pain later while she soaks in a very, very, _very_ long bubble bath.

The stairs are still moving while Guinevere climbs them two at a time. She doesn't dare to turn back, but she can hear a faint curse coming from behind her. She has a feeling that the boys who were trailing her aren't about to risk their skins by jumping after her. Slytherins are far too smart. Not for the first time, Guinevere thanks Merlin and the sorting hat and all other wizarding paraphernalia that she was sorted into Gryffindor, the house of the reckless.

Guinevere rushes up the Fat Lady, who's snoring loudly.

"Felix culpa!" Guinevere breathes out. "Felix culpa, felix culpa, felix culpa!"

The Fat Lady awakes mid snore and looks down at Guinevere in annoyance.

"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist," she grumbles. The painting swings open, much to Guinevere's relief, and she climbs in. The only thing on her mind is jumping in bed and sleeping through breakfast the next morning.

She stumbles into the Gryffindor common room, stripping off her boots and tossing them in the general direction of the couch. They make a hard-thudding sound that most definitely does not sound like it's coming from the soft fabric cushions.

" _Ow_."

A lump with red hair that shines in the firelight sits up on the couch. Guinevere lets out a sigh. She can't decide whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"Lily, what are you doing up?"

Her best friend rubs her head where the shoe hit her.

"Waiting up for _you_ ," she retorts in mild annoyance. "I was worried when you didn't show up for dinner."

Her red-haired friend's arms are folded across her chest and her spine is rigid against the couch. By the light of the fire bouncing off her face, Guinevere can tell she's angry, yet concerned. For a brief moment, she could swear that she's staring back at her own mother. It's the type of energy that Lily always gives off; the fierce protector.

"Why didn't you try to find me then?" Guinevere asks. She's not upset at Lily in the least. In fact, she's _happy_ that she didn't try to find her. On the rare occasions when she's in tears, she prefers to be left alone.

Lily's mask of annoyance slowly melts, giving way to a worried expression.

"James told me what happened," she replies.

Guinevere groans and collapses into the chair across from her. All the embarrassment and shame from earlier that day comes flooding back. She wants to sink into the couch and away from her best friend's sympathetic eyes.

Lily sighs and drops her rigid posture.

"I didn't go looking for you because I know how you are when you're upset," she admits. "I figured you would want to be left alone. I told the girls that you were just feeling poorly and were probably vomiting your guts out in the washroom."

Guinevere snorts, feeling a smile tug at her lips. Lily seems to brighten up herself in response.

"I also left some sugar quills under your pillow."

Guinevere's ghost of a smile turns into a full-blown grin.

"Thanks, Lily," she replies, barely above a whisper. Not for the first time, she marvels at what a beautiful human being Lily Evans is, both inside and out.

Lily blushes, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

"Don't mention it. Just go get some sleep."

Guinevere gets up out of the plush chair with some minor difficulty. She had all but forgotten about the nasty scrape on her knee from where it connected with the hard stone stairs. Her knees threaten to buckle from the sudden pressure on her legs, but she forces herself upright. She doesn't want Lily to worry any more than she already has tonight.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" Guinevere asks, forcing the pain out of her voice.

Lily shakes her head.

"I've got rounds soon. James did them this morning."

Guinevere bites back a remark about how she saw the two of them snogging in a corridor the last time James did the early rounds, but she quickly decides that's a discussion for another time. She just smiles instead.

"G'night, Lils," she murmurs before stalking away towards the dorms, making a conscious effort not to limp.

She's practically salivating at the thought of her warm bed with its fluffed pillows and silky sheets that put her to sleep better than any pill ever could. With some luck, her mates won't notice her return. She may even be able to wake up early enough to take a bath and wash away the congealed blood on her knee before anyone takes notice. A quick spell should be able to fix her torn stockings with little problem.

She has nearly reached the last step when she feels a tug on the back of her robes. She languidly turns on her heels, assuming that Lily just forgot to tell her something before she left.

James Potter stands behind her, the tip of his wand illuminating his face.

"James? What do _you_ want?"

She cringes at how unintentionally harsh her words sound. She doesn't mean to offend. She's just exhausted and she doesn't want to talk about what happened on the Quidditch pitch earlier that day, because she's almost _sure_ that's what James is here for.

James turns red in embarrassment and gives her an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry to bother you so late, but I just got finished making a run to the kitchen – they let you do _anything_ when you've got the Head Boy badge on your robes, you know – and when I got back to the common room, Lily was about ready to leave for her rounds and she told me you were just getting back yourself and you –,"

"James," Guinevere interrupts. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm _really_ tired, so I would like if you could get to the point sometime soon."

He just takes it in stride, chuckling lightly. She supposes he's heard worse from Lily.

"I know decisions aren't technically supposed to be made until this Monday, but I wanted to let you know that you made the team."

Her jaw drops.

After her mess of a try out and her altercation with Sirius on the field, she still somehow made the team.

"J-James…" she sputters out. "How…? What…?"

He chuckles again. In the dim light his wand casts on his face, Guinevere can see the old James Potter she met 6 years ago. That same impish grin stretches across his face and the same devious twinkle glints in his eyes. He looks like a 1st year again.

"You're way too hard on yourself, you know that, Driscoll?" he asks rhetorically. "You played brilliantly. Just because you lost the quaffle once doesn't mean you aren't one of the best chasers in Gryffindor house. Even I, a true Quidditch legend, have had my fair share of mishaps over the years."

She snorts and punches him in the shoulder.

"Deflate that head of yours before practice on Monday, Potter."

He chuckles and takes a small step back.

"So I'll be seeing you then?" he asks, though she can tell he knows the answer. She'd have to be absolutely barking mad to reject his offer.

"Bright and early, captain," she responds, following it with a mock salute. "I'm just so glad I got on the team at all that I'd sleep overnight on the pitch if you asked me to."

His face softens as he gives her a small smile. Gone is the devious glint in his eyes and the impish grin on his face. Suddenly, Guinevere can see the 7th year James; the kind, mature James that Lily is starting to fall for.

"Goodnight, Guin," he murmurs fondly. "I'll see you on the pitch."

He gives her one more nod of the head before turning his back to her and walking off in the direction of the boy's dormitory.

As soon as she can tell he's out of earshot, Guinevere slaps her hand over her mouth to stop a squeal of joy from escaping. Her lips ache from smiling so hard. Or maybe from the slap. She can't really tell, nor does she care. All she cares about is the fact that she's _going to be the Gryffindor team chaser_. What started as one of the worst nights of her life has turned into one of the best. The incidents with Sirius and the Slytherin boys are now somewhere in the back of her mind, if not just gone completely.

With a sigh of contentment, she finally enters her room.

After just a few steps towards her bed, she feels the small, furry body of Stevie Wonder weave between her legs. He looks up at her with his big green eyes glowing in the darkness and lets out the most pitiful meow she's ever heard. She can hear the message loud and clear: _'You left me out there.'_

She rolls her eyes and detangles herself from the annoying creature, launching herself into bed.

Maybe she should just give the damn cat to Remus.


	6. Chapter 6

Wednesdays are supposed to be Guinevere's happy time. Potions class is supposed to be her happy place. Now Sirius Black is ruining that.

She supposes he really isn't to blame for that. Not entirely, at least. She's partially at fault for punching him in the face and then purposefully avoiding him in the days afterward. But even if he isn't at fault, it's still _indirectly_ his fault. She wants to be angry at him. She wants to be pissed at him. She wants to find an excuse to ignore him further. She's aware that it's a petty wish, one meant to ease her own guilt.

But goddammit, she's a teenager. She's allowed to be irrational.

She's spent all morning trying to come up with some way to ignore Sirius's presence during potions class. Maybe she could rush in ahead of everyone else and rush out the same way. Maybe she could pretend to be sick in order to get herself out of class for the day. Maybe she could just stop going to potions altogether.

None seem like solid plans.

In the end, she merely gathers up what little courage she has and marches herself into potions class with Lily by her side. Her heart stutters in her chest when she passes by James and Sirius's table. She sees it all in slow motion; Sirius turning towards her with an unreadable expression and a small purple bruise painted on his high cheekbone, James giving her an apologetic look, the entire class staring at her and Lily glaring back at as many of them as she can.

Guinevere holds her chin up high as she strides to her seat and sits down next to Lily. She can feel all the eyes in the room burning a hole in the back of her head. The chatter that she usually hears at the beginning of class is completely absent. Everyone is too busy staring at her, waiting for her to do…

 _Do what, exactly?_

Professor Slughorn obviously doesn't sense the tension in the classroom like his students do, because he presses on teaching with his usual boisterous attitude.

"I do hope you all remembered today's test, because it's going to take you all class!" he declares.

A collective groan spreads throughout the room.

Guinevere chokes on air.

She completely forgot about the test. How could she forget about the test? She _never_ forgets about tests. School is what she's good at, especially potions. In muggle primary school she was subpar at best, but the sheer joy she gains from learning about all the intricate facets of the magical world has turned her into a teacher's pet. She's never failed a test at Hogwarts before.

The fear and anxiety are already starting to take hold of her.

"Please get together with your partners from last week!"

Now it's overflowing.

Guinevere shoots Lily a look that can only be described as desperate. Her friend returns it with a look of utmost sympathy before getting out of her seat, mouthing 'sorry' as she turns to go find a seat with Cordelia Jenkins.

Guinevere's eyes snap back to the desk in front of her, desperate to avoid looking at Sirius Black as he takes his seat next to her. Instead, she intently watches the cauldron appearing on the table, as if focusing on it will in some way help her pass this test.

A few seconds pass in silence between the two of them. To Guinevere, they could have been hours and she wouldn't have known the difference.

"We're making a love potion antidote."

She finally looks up and meets his eyes. But first, her eyes go to the slight bruise on his cheek.

She's still surprised that she managed to hit him hard enough to leave a bruise. Sure, she's not weak, per say, but there's a reason why she's a chaser instead of a beater. Besides, Sirius Black doesn't seem the type to bruise easily. He's rather… _sturdy_ , in Guinevere's eyes. It seems like he'd be thick-skinned, both physically and metaphorically.

"Uh, Guin?"

Guinevere snaps out of her trance like state and realizes she hasn't made a single move to begin the potion.

"Oh, right, the potion," she sputters out.

Her eyes quickly scan over the collection of ingredients laid out in front of them.

There's Wiggentree twigs, Castor oil, and extract of Gurdyroot…

She has no idea what order they go in to make a love potion antidote.

The anxiety is back.

She has no idea how long to stir in the Castor oil or whether the Gurdyroot goes in before or after the Wiggentree twigs or what color the potions is supposed to turn and _dear Merlin she's going to fail_ -

"Guin! Guin, calm down!"

Sirius's concerned whispers sound like white noise to her. She recognizes he's saying something to her, but she can't comprehend the words coming out of his mouth, as if she's hearing it underwater. The only words she hears come from her inner voice, telling her she's a failure.

When Sirius takes out his wand and starts a fire underneath the cauldron, Guinevere finally looks up at him. In her panicked haze, she still swears she can see some amount of concern in his stormy grey eyes. However, it flickers away so quickly that it could have just been her imagination.

"Add Wiggentree twigs until the potion turns green," he tells her gently.

In a haze, she does as he says.

It goes on like that, with Sirius giving her directions on how to make the antidote. He recites it like he's reading out of a book. It never even crossed her mind that despite the fact that she didn't study, Sirius _did_. The infuriating git that she's spent most of her time in Hogwarts looking down on prepared for this test when even she didn't.

Guilt rolls over in her stomach, but she puts it aside and continues following his directions.

Eventually, the concoction begins to turn pink, which Sirius informs her is a sign that the potion is finished. With shaky hands, she pours some of the potion into a small vial and deposits it on Slughorn's desk. Her professor gives her an encouraging smile. She smiles back.

When she makes her way back to her table, Sirius is silent. Even as the rest of the class begins finishing up and talking amongst themselves, Sirius still doesn't utter a word. He doesn't even look at her. His gaze stays firmly on the table.

For the first time in her life, Guinevere finds herself longing for an annoying comment from Sirius Black.

As the rest of the remaining testing partners begin to finish up and the end of class begins to to near, Sirius still isn't meeting Guinevere's gaze. His bruised cheek is facing her, on front display. It's a small bruise, all things considering. It's still that fresh reddish hue that will no doubt turn a blueish-purple as the days pass. Guinevere has received enough bruises from Quidditch to know this from personal experience. But there's something strange about seeing a bruise _she_ caused; on someone else, no less.

Without even thinking, she reaches up and brushes her fingers against the bruise. Sirius flinches away from her violently, as if she's about to punch him again. She retracts her hand, her face burning with shame. She's not sure what came over her. Acting without thinking is a bad habit of hers. Sirius's bruise is evidence of that.

As soon as Slughorn dismisses the class, Sirius gets up out of his seat and stalks towards the door without looking back. He doesn't stick around and chat aimlessly with Guinevere. He doesn't wait for James to pry himself away from Freyja Timbleton so they can leave together. He doesn't even call after her as he leaves so he can annoy her with that blasted nickname. He just… takes off.

With no clear motive in mind, Guinevere takes off after him.

She elbows her way through the crowd of students leaving potions class, her eyes locked on a retreating curly haired figure. As she catches up with him, her hand shoots out to grabs his. He whips his head around, his brows furrowed, and fight in his eyes. For a brief moment, Guinevere is sure he's going to punch her in the face just as she did to him the day before. When his dark eyes scan her face, the angry spark is extinguished. She briefly wonders what gave a teenage boy from a rich family such an intense flight or fight response to such simple actions, but the thought leaves as her head as quickly as it came.

 _What_ is _it she planned to say to him again?_

Guinevere tugs on his hand, pulling him towards the only private place she can think of: the broom closets.

Sirius is a strong enough bloke; by her estimation, he's at least 175 centimeters tall, as well as being decently toned. He's not freakishly strong and stocky like Avery or Mulciber, but he's certainly larger than her. He could easily yank his hand away or dig his heels into the ground and refuse to be moved. Yet he lets her continue to drag him away. Guinevere decides to interpret this as permission.

Still latching onto Sirius's hand for dear life, she pries open one of the broom closet doors and interrupts the couple inside beginning to reach under each other's robes. Their lips break apart as they turn to glare at Guinevere.

"Do you _mind_?" the Hufflepuff girl snaps.

Guinevere rolls her eyes. She hasn't the time nor the patience to argue with horny teenagers.

She uses her free hand to grab ahold of the Hufflepuff girl's robe and hauls her out of the closet.

"I need this closet more than you need to get your leg over. Find somewhere else to paw at each other."

The Hufflepuff girl huffs indignantly at Guinevere's demand, but nonetheless grabs the Ravenclaw girl she had been snogging and drags her away while murmuring curses under her breath.

Guinevere pulls Sirius into the closet with her, closing the door behind them. The door acts as a complete barrier to the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts halls. All Guinevere can hear is the sounds of Sirius's breaths, slightly quicker and louder than normal, and the blood pumping in her ears. If the room didn't feel so suffocating, she supposes she'd hear her own breaths as well.

She sticks her wand up and whispers,

" _Lumos_."

A bright light streams out of the end of her wand, illuminating both their faces in the pitch-black closet.

The first thing Guinevere's eyes drift to is the bruise, slightly less prominent in the dim light. The second thing she focuses on is his deep set frown.

"Pull me away from some afternoon snogging, Driscoll?" he asks, his tone carrying a little more bite than it usually does. "I'm sorry to say I'm not feeling quite in the mood."

Guinevere grimaces. She can't remember the last time Sirius called her by her surname, much less used such a clipped tone with her. If she didn't know how badly she messed up before, now she certainly does.

Before she can lose her courage, she heaves in a breath.

"I wanted to apologize for punching you in the face," she blurts out.

The scowl slips away.

"It was my own fault that I mucked up my try out and it was way out of line to blame it on you, much less to punch you in the face, especially hard enough to leave a -,"

"Driscoll!" Sirius barks.

Guinevere shuts her mouth, choking on unspoken words. She holds her breath while Sirius reaches out and grips both her shoulders, leaning down slightly so they're eye to eye.

"I'm not miffed about you punching me," he admits.

She stares at him, wondering if that punch addled his brain. If she's _that_ strong, maybe she should have been a beater after all…

"Then why have you been treating me like your own personal boggart?" she snaps.

Her own malice takes her aback. She tells herself that she isn't angry that she's being ignored by _him_ , per say. She's just angry at being ignored. It's the principle, not the person.

Sirius lets out an annoyed huff, reminding Guinevere of a frustrated child.

"Because I messed up your try out, that's why!" he exclaims.

Guinevere blinks at him. She fights back laughter; whether it's from shock or from relief, she doesn't know. Here she was thinking he viewed her punching him as an irredeemable act worthy of being shunned, when in actuality, he thought _his_ actions were irredeemable and worthy of being shunned. Obviously, James didn't tell him that she made it onto the team.

Once the initial shock passes, the confusion settles in. Why in Merlin's name does Sirius Black care whether or not he messed up her try out? The two of them have never been even remotely friendly with each other, and Guinevere can reluctantly recall a few times when she was less than kind to him for little reason besides relieving anger he didn't even cause. She wouldn't blame him for finding some joy in the fact that he messed up her try out.

 _If_ he actually did. Which he didn't; a fact that James apparently didn't divulge to him.

Guinevere gives into her urges and lets out a short, breathy laugh.

"Sirius, you didn't mess up my try out."

He perks up in a way that reminds Guinevere of a dog when it hears the word "fetch".

"You mean you made it on to the team?" he asks, sounding as hopeful as he dares.

"Yeah, you're looking at one of the Gryffindor chasers, 3rd year running. I'm guessing James didn't tell you?"

Guinevere watches a litany of emotions pass over Sirius's face in a matter of seconds; from shock, to confusion, to anger, and finally to realization.

"The traitorous git refused to tell me whether or not you made it on the team. I thought he just didn't want to make me feel worse about you getting cut."

Guinevere furrows her brow in confusion. It doesn't sound like James to torment his best mate like that, even if just for a prank. He's mischievous, not cruel.

Then it all clicks.

"He was trying to get us to speak to each other," she whispers, more to herself than to Sirius. But he seems to hear her regardless.

"That conniving bastard!" Sirius huffs, but it seems to lack any real anger. In fact, unless Guinevere is horribly mistaken, he seems slightly amused by it all.

Admittedly, she's amused as well. James's scheme was simple, but well thought out. Both parties believed the other to be angry at them for something, and James knew it was only a matter of time until one of them tried to apologize and the entire story would come out.

It's times like this when Guinevere remembers why James is the undisputed King of Pranks at Hogwarts.

With the issue at hand resolved, a stifling silence settles over the two of them. By now, the light in her wand has gone out, and neither is making a move to leave. No matter how much Guinevere wants to bolt out of the closet, some invisible force glues her to her spot. The heat building in the confined space causes her cheeks to heat up and sweat to form on her brow.

"So…" Sirius mumurs, breaking the silence. Guinevere wishes she didn't just realize how close they are. She can feel his warm breath on her face. It smells like peppermint.

At least he doesn't have morning breath.

When he speaks again, his voice is no longer soft, and she can practically hear the smirk in his tone.

"You sure you don't wanna have a little snog before our next class, Gwen Of Air? I'm suddenly in the mood."

Guinevere rolls her eyes, praying that he can't see the grin on her face in the dark.

"Not even in your dreams, Black. Now be a gentleman and open the door for me."

Sirius chuckles and reaches over her to open the door, making a big show of bowing and letting her out first. She strides out into the corridor with a spring in her step, ignoring the scandalized looks of other students. They'll no doubt be spreading rumors by dinner time of the mudblood's torrid love affair with the heir to the most well known pure blooded family in wizarding history. She can already think of several people who will be out for her head.

At this moment, Guinevere is far too happy to care.


	7. Chapter 7

When Guinevere wakes the next morning, she feels better rested than she has in days.

Maybe it's the talk she had with Sirius the day before, or maybe it's the fact that she has Quidditch practice later today; either way, she wakes up with a smile on her face in time for breakfast, a meal she usually sleeps straight through.

When she starts pulling on her robes, only Marlene still lingers in the dorm. The smaller girl is taking her sweet time tweezing at her brows in order to achieve the ever desired thin arch. Sometimes, Guinevere regrets introducing her to muggle fashions and trends. Even if it takes her twenty minutes without magic, Marlene insists on doing her makeup just like Farrah Fawcett.

"You ready to go, Marls?" she prods. "Or are you determined to rip out every last eyebrow hair before breakfast?"

Marlene blushes and sets the tweezers down on her dresser.

"There's no shame in wanting to feel pretty, Guin," she says in her usual soft tone. If she hadn't known Marlene for as long as she did, Guinevere might feel guilty for the jab at her tweezing obsession. But after nearly seven years of friendship, she knows that Marlene responds to all jokes with absolute sincerity.

"You're already feckin' beautiful," she deadpans. "Now move your ass before they run out of strawberry jam."

Marlene takes an additional minute to brush out her long, thick black hair before linking arms with Guinevere. From their close proximity, Guinevere can smell the strawberry scented shampoo that she has been using since 3rd year. Her stomach grumbles in response.

That jam is calling her name.

The two friends walk arm-in-arm down the stairs together on their way to the Great Hall, talking quietly amongst themselves. Guinevere cracks a cheesy joke that she won't even remember later, and the sound of Marlene's giggle rings out across the corridor. The two rarely get quality time to themselves. They're always flanked by Lily and Alice and Dorcas and Mary and, on some occasions, Emmeline. The rarity of these moments makes Guinevere treasure them all the more, where she has time to appreciate Marlene's sweet, subdued personality without it being tuned out by the more boisterous natures of her other friends. Being able to hear Marlene's gentle voice and fairy-like giggle is a rare gift for Guinevere.

From her right side, ever so faintly, she hears another sound; a word, being hissed at her with more malice than she has ever heard before in an already hateful word.

" _Mudblood_."

Guinevere stops dead in her tracks, feeling Marlene's body jolt back with her.

She turns to her right and finds herself staring into a pair of bright, cruel green eyes, partially hidden under curly blond bangs.

Delora Rosier.

One of the most infamously nasty girls in Slytherin house.

Guinevere feels Marlene tense by her side. Despite her quiet nature, Guinevere knows her friend would willingly jump to her defense. Someone else fighting her battles is the _last_ thing she needs.

She squeezes Marlene's arm to calm her and send her a silent message, _'don't intervene, I can handle this'_.

Guinevere smiles so widely that her fact hurts.

"Delora, you're looking exceptionally beautiful on this fine morning," she croons.

 _Kill them with kindness_ , she reminds herself for the hundredth time. _It bothers them more than being mean back_.

Delora looks thrown off at first, obviously having expected Guinevere to react with anger. However, she quickly regains her wits and smirks back at her.

"I can't say the same for you, mudblood. What is it that Sirius Black sees in you? Because I don't see much."

Guinevere flinches, losing some of her bravery. Usually, flashing a smile and throwing out a compliment unnerves her tormentors enough to make them leave her alone. At the very least, they'll consider her a lost cause once they see they won't get the rise out of her that they desire.

It seems Delora is the exception.

Guinevere recovers quickly and prays that her opponent didn't notice that small moment of weakness.

"And who exactly should he be interested in instead?" she asks. "You? Aren't the Blacks and the Rosiers related? I knew you purebloods were infamous for inbreeding, but it's not exactly something you should advertise, Del."

Guinevere smirks when she sees the nickname had the desired effect. Delora's face goes from a pale ivory to bright red like a tomato in a few seconds flat. Her hand fumbles in her robes before she pulls out her wand and points it at Guinevere. The two are so close that Guinevere can feel the tip of the wand poking her in the nose.

"Listen here, you ugly little mudblood -,"

Marlene rips her arm away from Guinevere and pushes her behind her back in a protective manner, brandishing her own wand at Delora.

"You aren't very nice," Marlene says through gritted teeth. "I think the instant scalping hex would help the outside match the inside. Don't you think so?"

Guinevere feels adoration for her friend bloom in her chest.

The prospect of losing her beautiful blonde curls is enough to make Delora take a few steps back. Marlene's jaw unclenches, but she keeps her wand raised, as if waiting for an opportunity to hex Delora into the next century.

Slowly, Delora pockets her own wand. Marlene lowers hers, but keeps it in her hand. With the immediate threat diminished, Marlene's signature dreamy smile returns. It never ceases to amaze Guinevere how quickly the normally sweet and reserved girl can snap when one of her friends is under the threat of attack.

"Now if you'll excuse us, Delora, we're gonna go get some breakfast before they run out of all the good stuff," Marlene says.

She grips onto Guinevere's arm. Then, as an afterthought, she adds with genuine sadness,

"And you really do have beautiful hair. It's a shame you have to be so nasty to people all the time."

As Marlene pulls her towards the Great Hall, Guinevere hears Delora shout after her,

"Enjoy it while you can, Driscoll! Soon enough, not even Hogwarts will be safe for people like you!"

Guinevere rolls her eyes, already putting all thoughts of Delora Rosier out of her mind.

It occurs to her halfway through breakfast that she never even bothered to correct Delora's assumption that she and Sirius fancy each other.

* * *

The heat is overbearing on the sunny Thursday afternoon. The ever present clouds that shroud the entire UK on a daily basis are curiously absent, and the temperature is well over 20 degrees Celsius. Quidditch practice only lasted for two hours, but Guinevere is covered from head to toe in sweat. It doesn't feel like an overstatement in the least to say she's dying.

When the entire team finally dismounts, Guinevere sucks in breath after breath like she'll never get enough air in her lungs. If she wasn't so determined to make a good impression on the new players, she would bend over and place her head between her knees to keep herself from throwing up. Living in the north of Ireland her entire life, her body is mostly adapted to cold and damp weather.

James comes up to her side and slaps her on the back.

"You good, Driscoll?"

He looks as sweaty and disheveled as she does, if not more so. His characteristically messy hair is dripping in sweat that beads down onto his forehead, slipping down onto his foggy glasses. James always tends to push himself harder than he pushes his team, which is pretty damn hard.

No one takes Quidditch more seriously than James Potter.

Guinevere nods and wipes some sweat off her brow.

"I'll live," she insists. "It's just hotter than the dickens today."

James raises a confused brow.

"The dickens? What is that?"

She sighs. Some muggle expressions have made their way into wizard vernacular over the centuries, but others are completely foreign to purebloods like James. The trouble is, Guinevere can never tell which ones are which until she says them out loud and receives a barrage of confused stares.

"It's a muggle expression, James. It's meant to emphasize something. I was just saying it's really, really hot."

He nods, but Guinevere can tell the explanation isn't quite clicking with him. She's far too tired to explain it in more detail, however, so she points at the brand new 5th year beater who is turning quite an impressive shade of green.

"You should stop wasting your time checking on me and go get that kid a bucket."

James looks over at the boy, who is starting to gag, and dashes away to deal with the situation. Guinevere laughs as she watches him transfigure the boy's broom into a bucket. No one can ever accuse James of not being a hands-on team captain.

She turns towards the stands, expecting to see Lily waiting for her. She promised that she'd meet Guinevere after practice so the two could walk to dinner together. However, her red-haired friend is nowhere in sight. In fact, the only person sitting in the stands at the moment is Sirius Black, who seems to be preoccupied with what looks like a textbook.

She looks back at James, no doubt who Sirius is waiting on. He's busy trying to get the 5th year to puke in the bucket instead of on his shoes. It's going to be a while before he's ready to leave. So she may as well just sit with Sirius while they wait for Lily and James, right? They're not friends, exactly, but after yesterday's conversation, she likes to think they're at least _civil_.

Guinevere starts trudging up the steps to get to the stands.

By the time she reaches Sirius, she's panting all over again.

Sirius looks up from his book and glances over at Guinevere. Once he realizes it's her, he sets his book down next to him and gives her a glance over.

"You're very sweaty," he states simply.

She plops down next to him.

"How observant of you."

Silence falls over the two of them while they stare straight ahead at the Quidditch pitch. The height of the stands means the wind hits Guinevere in the face every so often, providing her some relief from the heat. She closes her eyes and relishes in it.

"You were good today."

Her eyes flit open and she turns her head to look at Sirius.

"Huh?"

He grins. It's not impish and infuriating as it usually is. If Guinevere were to describe it, she would call it genuine. Sweet, even.

Well, sweet for Sirius Black.

"You were good today," he repeats. "You had some pretty decent defensive maneuvers. But you'll need to watch out for the new Ravenclaw chaser. I hear she's the master of fake-outs. She made one of her teammates crash into the stands during one of their practices. Work on the offensive as well."

Guinevere cocks her head to the side, scrutinizing him. Sirius comes to every game and nearly every practice, but she always assumed it was in support of James. He's never tried out for the team once.

"If you know so much, why aren't you on the team?" she asks. In a different tone, that question could seem mocking. But Guinevere asks out of pure curiosity.

Sirius's jaw clenches and something shifts on his face. His entire demeanor instantly darkens. Guinevere remembers the look in his eyes when she grabbed him by the arm in the corridor yesterday. It's the same look she sees in his eyes now: defensive.

"My little brother is Slytherin's seeker," he admits.

Something curls in her stomach at the mention of Sirius's brother. She had nearly forgotten all those nights ago, seeing the younger Black and being chased by his brutish friends. She briefly toys with the idea of telling Sirius about what she witnessed, but decides against it. If the look on his face says anything, now isn't the best time.

Still, she can't squash the guilt she feels for keeping it from him.

"Why would that stop you from playing?"

He purses his lips together, letting the question hang in the air for a few more seconds than necessary. When he finally answers, he turns away from her to stare out at the Quidditch pitch.

"After he made the team, everyone thought I would too," he continues. "Professors kept asking me when I was going to try out. Every single time I went to Slughorn with a question after potions class, he somehow managed to bring up my brother's "natural talent" on the Quidditch pitch and asked me when I was going to "follow in his footsteps". As if _he_ was the older brother. One time I even heard the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw team captains arguing over what position I would play. Hufflepuff figured seeker, like my brother, but Ravenclaw figured I was too big for that. He wagered I'd be a chaser. And I just…."

He trails off, but Guinevere gets the idea.

"You don't want to be compared to him," she finishes for him.

He looks back at her. Grey eyes lock on brown, and she can see his defenses lowering. He's not vulnerable, not in the least, just… not so tense. He no longer seems like he's a cobra poised to strike.

"Mum and Dad always expected the best of Regulus and I. He can be the world's best seeker for all I care, but I want no part of it."

 _Regulus_. That's the younger Black's name.

She needs to tell him. Even if they aren't close, he's still Sirius's brother and Guinevere has a sinking feeling that he's getting himself into some deep trouble.

"Sirius… I -,"

"GUIN!"

Guinevere looks out at the pitch and spots a head of fiery red hair. Her best friend is waving at her, trying to get her attention. She feels like sighing in relief. This is her chance to escape. Once she's away from him, maybe the mounting guilt will disappear.

She turns back to Sirius, who's still waiting for her to finish her sentence.

"I… I'll see you later."

She gets up and hurries down the stairs towards the pitch to meet Lily.

On her way down, she comes to a decision; she needs to tell Sirius what his brother is up to at _some_ point. But before she does, she needs to know exactly what it is he's doing.

She's going to find out, and soon.

* * *

 **A/N: I guess you guys can tell I'm on a kick for this story lately. I'm inspired! I also decided to characterize Marlene in a way that she usually isn't. People usually make her a female Sirius, but I wanted to do something different. I also wanted to show a little more of the defensive, slightly unstable Sirius that we see in the books. I don't believe ALL his problems came from Azkaban. His upbringing had a little to do with it.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! As always, reviews are welcome. I really want to know what you guys thing. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

After weeks of sticking close to Remus, Stevie Wonder is once again by Guinevere's side.

The traitorous tabby is currently weaving between her legs while she tries to eat her dinner. He meows loudly under the table in the hopes that she'll give him some of her chicken. Of course, she's only good to him when she has food. She glares down at him.

"Bugger off."

Across from the table, Remus gives her a curious look.

"Are you telling your own feet to bugger off?" he asks.

Guinevere sputters in protest and points down at the cat that Remus can't see from his seat.

"No I… he was… my…"

Sirius snorts from his spot on Remus's left.

"Finally gone mad, have you Gwen-Of-Air?"

She shoots Sirius a glare and shoves a piece of chicken in her mouth, effectively ending the conversation. Let them think she's gone mad. She already feels as though she has these days.

For the past few weeks, she and Lily have been eating dinner with the Marauders. In that time, Guinevere and Sirius have largely fallen back into their old routine; he pokes fun at her, she fires back at him, and the cycle repeats until Lily snaps at one or both of them to start acting their age. But unlike before, their banter now doesn't seem to leave Guinevere stewing in anger for hours to come. She views it as a harmless annoyance now. One might even call the two of them "friendly".

She wouldn't go _that_ far, though.

"Peter, can you pass the rolls please?" she asks.

The mousy boy hands her the platter with a small smile, but no words. She smiles back and takes it from him.

Peter still doesn't really speak to her, but at least he no longer cowers from her like a rat cowers from a barn cat.

Guinevere shoves a roll in her mouth, hyper-aware of the idle chatter going on around her. Sirius is giving Peter a pep-talk to encourage him to pursue a Hufflepuff girl he's fancied for quite some time. Remus is listening intently to an animated story Alice is telling about her first encounter with the muggle entertainment device called the "television". Lily and James are deep into an intense, but friendly debate on the ethics of utilizing house elves to make the food in Hogwarts. Everyone is occupied.

Which gives Guinevere the opportunity to turn her head and spy on Regulus Black at the Slytherin table.

The younger boy is immersed in conversation with the usual suspects; Mulciber, Avery, and Snape. They're all leaning in closely to the center of the table, no doubt trying to keep the conversation as private as possible. Guinevere has been closely monitoring their conversations for weeks now, following them down corridors and eavesdropping through bookcases, and the only useful piece of information she has gleaned is that "it" will be happening tonight.

What "it" is, Guinevere has no idea. She just knows that whatever it is, Regulus doesn't seem all too thrilled about it.

Lily's sharp elbow jabbing into her side brings her back to reality.

Guinevere turns to look at Lily, but her friend is looking further down the Gryffindor table. When she looks around, she sees that all her other friends are looking in the same direction with varying degrees of concern on their faces.

They're looking at Maggie Chambers, a 5th year muggleborn student. Though Guinevere's interactions with her are limited, she knows that Maggie is a generally kind and reserved girl with a knack for charms. Professor McGonagall is standing over her with a hand on her shoulder to beckon her out of the room. From the professor's pitying expression, Maggie knows what's about to happen. And so does Guinevere and her friends.

Maggie bites down on her lower lip in a valiant effort not to burst into tears in front of the entire student body. She gets to her feet and follows McGonagall out of the Great Hall. The seven friends finally tear their eyes away from the scene and look around at each other, all thinking the same thing.

In only the past few months, there has been an alarming spike in muggleborn students, and even some half-bloods, losing their loved ones in mysterious circumstances. At least one student is escorted out of the Great Hall by their Head of House every week. They always come back to their common room sobbing, and they're never quite the same afterwards.

Everybody knows what's causing the deaths, or rather, _who_ is causing the deaths. That dark wizard who calls himself "Voldemort" has built up a substantial following in the past year. Attitudes towards anyone not of pureblood status has gone from bad to worse. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened to those muggles.

It's devastating to lose a loved one. Each one of them has experienced loss in some form in their lives. The sympathy they all feel for Maggie is palpable.

But however bad they feel for Maggie, Lily, Remus, and Guinevere all exchange a look. It's one that says, ' _Thank God it wasn't me this time'._

"She has four little sisters," James says, looking stricken. "I walked her back to the common room on one of my patrols. She gushed about them the entire way."

No one responds. Guinevere doesn't know what words could possibly be said to make this situation any better. This week, it's Maggie. Next week, it will be someone else. It could be Lily. Or Remus. Or Dorcas. Or Emmeline.

Or herself.

She thinks of her Mam and Dad, who live blissfully unaware of the danger they're in just by having her as a daughter.

Her stomach turns violently.

"Things are bound to get better eventually," Peter insists. His tone reeks of nervousness and fear. It's as though he doesn't believe in his own words and just wants somebody to give him some hope to hold onto.

Sirius claps him on the shoulder.

"Things aren't going to get better for a long while, Pete. Right now, they're just bound to get worse. But we've got each other's backs no matter what, right mates?"

James and Remus enthusiastically declare their agreement and all slap each other's backs in a way that is so distinctly "teenage boy" to Guinevere. She tries to keep the bitterness from creeping in while watching them, but she can't help but think it's easy for Sirius to say that. He's a pureblood, after all.

What's _he_ got to lose?

"I should go check the owlery," Guinevere proclaims, standing up. "My parents said they were going to send their owl my way this week. I'll see you guys around."

Before she can leave, Lily grips her arm and gives her a look that says, _'We're talking later.'_

Guinevere gives her a curt nod and Lily lets go of her arm, letting her escape the Great Hall.

She doesn't know what that talk will be about, but she has some ideas.

* * *

The owlery is relatively abandoned at this time of the afternoon. Most people tend to their owls earlier in the day, which is why Guinevere prefers going later.

She finds the family owl, Rhea, in her designated spot. The tawny owl fluffs her wings and hoots in excitement when she sees one of her masters.

It took Guinevere months to convince her parents to invest in an owl. As muggles, they were a little apprehensive about wizarding post and how to use it. But when they realized there was no other way to communicate with their daughter while she was off at school, they readily agreed and purchased Rhea in Diagon Alley. Now she's as spoiled as Stevie Wonder.

Guinevere steps forward and scratches Rhea on the head lightly, just the way she likes. The owl coos at her and pushes her head further into Guinevere's hand.

It takes Guinevere a few seconds to notice the letter attached to the ribbon around Rhea's neck.

She grabs it and clicks her tongue.

"You couldn't deliver this to me this morning like you were supposed to?"

Rhea shrinks back, knowing she's being scolded.

Guinevere sighs and tears the envelope open, her eyes scanning the page:

 _Guinny,_

 _Congratulations on making the Quidditch team this year! I knew you could do it, sweetheart. You've always had a knack for sports. Your dad is complaining that he has no one to play rugby with anymore. I think he just misses your company more than he lets on._

 _All is well on our front, thank you for asking. Dare I say, it's even a little bit boring! The Macmillans got a rooster and the blasted thing keeps waking us up early in the morning. Your dad swears he's going to shoot it one day and cook it for dinner. Other than that, there's nothing to report._

 _We can't wait until you come back for Christmas! Be good until then. Your dad sends his love._

 _Love always,_

 _Mam_

She smiles and folds the paper up, stuffing it in her pocket. She'll definitely be putting it on her nightstand later so she can read it over and over again. It'll be good for days where she can do nothing but fear for her parents' lives. The note will remind her that they're safe at home in Ireland.

After reading her note and feeding Rhea, Guinevere leaves for the Gryffindor dorms, where she knows she'll find Lily waiting for her. Alice, Dorcas, and Marlene all have plans for the evening. Guinevere does as well, though no one knows about them. She'd like to keep it that way.

When she enters her room, Lily is sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, waiting for her. Guinevere feels oddly like a kid again, coming home from grade school after getting in trouble and just waiting to be reprimanded by her mother. Like she did when she was a child, she has an excuse already ready.

"Okay, I know I left the feast in a hurry, but you know I worry about my parents and I know you do too and seeing Maggie-,"

Lily holds a hand up, a sign for Guinevere to stop talking.

"Why were you staring at the Slytherin table?"

Whatever response Guinevere was preparing, it dies in her throat.

She hadn't counted on Lily noticing her watching Regulus. Of _course_ Lily noticed. Her best friend is observant, wicked smart, and more often than not, worried about what her friends are up to. Guinevere curses herself for not being more discrete.

"I… uh… had some suspicions," she murmurs. Lily raises an eyebrow.

"Suspicions? About what? Or _who_?"

Guinevere has an internal battle; should she tell Lily? Or should she keep it to herself?

If she looks at it logically, she's backed into a corner. Lily has already caught on to the fact that she's hiding something. Guinevere is an awful liar; she's not sure how good of an excuse she could fabricate on the spot.

Besides, Lily is her _best friend_. There's no secrets between the two of them.

She makes up her mind, sitting down next to Lily.

"If I tell you this, you have to _promise_ it will stay between us. You swear?"

Lily nods solemnly.

Guinevere proceeds to tell her everything; how she witnessed a strange meeting between Regulus Black and some other Slytherins, how she knew something sinister was happening, how she's been spying on them for the past few weeks, and finally, how she plans to find out exactly what it is they're up to.

"They're planning to meet again tonight," she insists. "I have a feeling that all their secret meetings have been building up to this moment. I could get the answers I want _tonight_."

From the deep frown etched in Lily's features, Guinevere can tell she disapproves. She prepares herself for an argument, thinking about what points she'll make in advance in order to convince her best friend to let her go without a fuss.

"Guin, why do you always poke your nose around where you don't belong?" Lily asks in exasperation. There's no bite to her words, only exhaustion, as if she's a long suffering parent.

Guinevere grins.

"Your life would be boring otherwise."

Lily rolls her eyes, grinning herself. Guinevere can sense that she's still not thrilled with the idea of her chasing down rogue Slytherins, but she's starting to lighten up just _slightly_.

"I'm not talking you out of this, am I?" she asks, probably knowing full well the answer.

Guinevere shakes her head and Lily sighs again.

"Okay then. I'm coming with you."

Guinevere stands up off the bed in shock.

"You're _what_?"

This is the absolute _last_ thing that she expected. Lily is Head Girl. Not only is she supposed to follow the rules to a tee, but she's supposed to enforce them. She stands to lose even more than Guinevere if she's caught sneaking around after hours. Of course, Guinevere can't allow that to happen.

"No no no, absolutely not. You're _not_ coming with me."

Lily stands up with her, folding her arms across her chest. There's a fighting spark in her emerald eyes, one that usually means she's about to get her way. Arguments with Lily Evans are notoriously hard to win.

"You think I'm letting you do this by yourself? So you can get yourself caught? By a professor _or_ by someone like Mulciber or Avery? Not a chance, Guin."

Suddenly, her body relaxes and she drops her folded hands back to her side. A sweet smile spreads across her face. It's a complete 180 degree shift in demeanor that leaves Guinevere baffled, and just a bit scared.

"If you don't let me go along, I could just send Mrs. Norris your way while I'm on my patrol."

Guinevere gapes at the redhead.

"You _wouldn't_ ," she hisses.

Lily raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I wouldn't?" she asks rhetorically. "I'd rather see you in trouble than see you hurt. If you're doing this, then so am I. The matter is settled."

Guinevere flushes with guilt. She hadn't considered the danger she was thrusting herself into, too blinded by her hunger for the truth. If Lily was the one who came up with this plan, Guinevere would insist on accompanying her as well.

Both of them stand to lose so much already. Losing each other would be unbearable.

"Fine," she acquiesces. "We'll leave together around the time you're set for a patrol around the castle. I have a feeling I know where they're gonna go."

Lily smiles and flings her arms around Guinevere in a grateful hug.

"I love you, Guin!"

She can't fight the grin spreading across her face as she hugs Lily back. She may have had a bad reaction to his words at the time, but looking back on it now, maybe Sirius had a point. These are dark times they're living in, but as long as Guinevere has Lily and the rest of her friends, she's not completely without hope.

She still has something left to fight for.


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you ready to go, Guin?"

Guinevere grunts to acknowledge Lily's question as she ties a fabric headband into her chestnut brown hair.

The two friends are dressed in their casual clothes, as is normal for students on a Friday night. Guinevere is wearing her favorite white jumper under mustard colored overalls and flat shoes that will hopefully make no noise while she stalks around the corridors.

Lily opts to pull her long auburn locks back into a ponytail so it won't get in her way, as well as wearing high waisted trousers and a simple white peasant blouse; something practical that she can run in if need be. Guinevere hopes it won't come to that, but she won't easily forget that night when she had to make a mad dash to the dorms to escape Mulciber.

"Before we leave, I have to ask again, are you _sure_ about this?" Lily asks.

Guinevere nods and tucks her wand into the pocket of her overalls.

"Positive."

Lily nods her understanding and tucks her own wand into the back pocket of her trousers. She still doesn't seem thrilled by the idea, but she's determined to go along out of pure loyalty and stubbornness.

"Fine, but if I think you're in danger, I'm alerting a professor," she warns.

Guinevere gulps. She's not sure whose wrath she should fear more; those Slytherin boys', or Lily's. She just prays that their little excursion will go off without a hitch.

The two sneak out of their dorm easily enough. No one is in the common room at this hour, and there's certainly no one out of bed. Except Guinevere, of course, who can never mind her own business.

A little voice in her head that sounds eerily like Lily asks her why she's doing this when she could just curl up in bed and get a good night's sleep. She has a Quidditch game tomorrow, for Merlin's sake! She needs to be well rested and _not_ hexed by some pureblood supremacists for getting caught spying. She's seen those boys whip up some nasty hexes that she'd rather not be on the receiving end of.

The two of them are already shuffling down the stairs as quietly as possible. It's too late for Guinevere to change her mind. So she takes a deep breath and tells herself to be brave.

 _You're a Gryffindor_ , she tells herself. _So act like it._

She tip-toes down the main corridor with Lily following behind her. Or, at least, she _thinks_ Lily is following behind her. The other girl is so good at making her footfalls silent that Guinevere can't hear her even if she strains her ears. She briefly wonders if her friend has prior experience with sneaking around the castle when she wasn't supposed to.

 _No_ , she decides. _Lily wouldn't risk her detention-free record for something so trivial._

Than again, here she is, risking it right now. All to keep Guinevere out of trouble.

Maybe this _was_ a bad idea.

As they turn down another corridor, nearing the potions classroom, Guinevere's mind begins racing with all possibilities she had not yet considered. What if they aren't meeting in that spot again? What if they chose to meet in the library, or the charms classroom, or even the Forbidden Forest? Or what if they _did_ meet in the potions classroom, but they already left? Or perhaps they haven't even gotten there yet?

Lily must sense Guinevere's worry, because she reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. She places her hand on top of Lily's in a sign of gratitude. Though she didn't want her to come in the first place, she's immensely grateful that she has her best friend's support.

And if worst comes worst, Lily knows a wicked knee-reversal hex that is sure to slow their opponents down.

The nearer she gets to the entrance of the potions classroom, the easier it becomes for Guinevere to make out voices coming from inside. Each of them are distinct and familiar, but she's still too far away to make out any words.

She turns around to glance at Lily, who gives her a nod to show she can hear the voices too.

Moving slowly and carefully, they both begin to step closer to the classroom. Guinevere wonders how long ago they got there. Is their little meeting already nearing a close? Is it too late?

She presses her body against the cold brick wall, as close as physically possible. It digs into her flesh, prickling her cheek painfully. The soft fibers of her jumper cling to the grainy brick as if it wants to pull her in. She doesn't care about the pain. In order to hear their words clearly, she needs to be right at the door.

"… will it hurt?" a timid voice asks. Guinevere recognizes it as Regulus's.

When she heard him and his "friends" talking last, he seemed less than enthused about whatever it was he was agreeing to. She remembers how his face drained of color. There were deep-set bags under his dull eyes, yet he seemed wide awake with fear.

From the sound of his voice now, she can assume he doesn't feel any different than he did a few days before.

"Of course it will hurt," another voice snaps. "But it doesn't last long, and the lasting benefits far outweigh the pain."

"But how do I get it?" Regulus asks again. "Who… _administers_ it?"

 _'It'? What is 'it'?_

A far more haughty sounding voice chimes in,

"Only the Dark Lord himself can mark you. He was the one who created the spell."

Guinevere whips her head around to look at Lily, who stares back at her with her lips set in a grim line.

They've both heard of Voldemort's followers calling him "the Dark Lord". Guinevere always scoffed at the title. He's no _Lord_ ; he's just a pathetic, power hungry wizard with an inflated sense of self-worth. There's little difference between him and muggle cult leaders who use similar titles to trick others into thinking they're important.

But it seems these boys are embracing their so called "Dark Lord" whole-heartedly. Foolishly so, in Guinevere's opinion.

"How does this mark work, exactly? Why do I need it?"

Guinevere begrudgingly admits to herself that she's rather impressed with the amount of questions Regulus is throwing at them. His tone is no longer fearful, but confident. She'd even wager that he's a bit skeptical of this so called "mark". It's unlike what she's seen from people like Avery or the Rosier siblings, who will follow the ideals of a mad man with blind loyalty. If she didn't know any better, she'd guess he was a Ravenclaw based on his thirst for knowledge.

"Are you questioning the Dark Lord's reasons?" one of them snaps.

Guinevere rolls her eyes. It's probably Mulciber; he's the human exemplification of "blind loyalty".

"Now, it's only fair to let the boy know what he's getting into. After all, the mark will never go away."

Guinevere feels Lily grab her hand and squeeze tightly. She looks back at her best friend. Lily's jaw is clenched, her eyes looking straight past Guinevere. The normally bright emerald eyes are stormy and preoccupied. She knows there's only explanation for her friend acting this way.

That's Severus Snape's voice.

"It acts in a way similar to a Protean Charm," Snape explains. "It connects you with the Dark Lord. He can use the mark to call on you whenever he requires your presence. It is a high honor to carry the mark, Black. Only those he trusts will remain loyal to him are allowed to bear his mark."

"When would I receive it?"

"Over winter break," Snape answers. "Attempting to summon the Dark Lord while we're on Hogwarts grounds would cause too many… _complications_."

Another boy clears his throat, a sign that it's time to speed the process up.

"So, Black, you still haven't given us an answer. Do you accept the Dark Lord's offer or not?"

Silence fills the classroom, spilling out into the corridor. It's suffocating. All Guinevere can hear is the sound of herself and Lily breathing in unison. Both are fighting to keep their breaths as soft as possible, despite their racing hearts.

For a few glorious seconds, Guinevere imagines that Regulus is going to say _no, I don't want to join that madman_.

He's the brother of Sirius Black, after all. Sirius, who is best friends with two half-bloods and a notorious blood traitor. Sirius, who has never looked at her or Lily like they're scum underneath his feet merely because they were born to muggle parents. Sirius, who is so firm in his convictions that he could face down Voldemort himself and not change his mind.

Surely he must have rubbed off on his little brother, right?

All her hopes shatter mere seconds later when she hears a single word softly whispered,

" _Yes._ "

She wants to scream.

It's an urge she hasn't felt in a long time. Usually, she is mild-mannered and non-confrontational, even timid at times. But she feels an anger bubbling up in her stomach like nothing she's ever felt before. It travels up her chest and into her throat, threatening to burst out of her mouth. She can't stop the tears that gather in the corner of her eyes. They're the hot, angry kind of tears that burn like a potion being splashed in her eyes. She just wants to know _why_.

Why does Voldemort believe she should die for having two very loving muggle parents? And more importantly, why do people like these boys believe him?

Lily pulls on her hand, silently telling her that it's time for them to go. Guinevere wants to protest for reasons even she can't understand. Some sort of dark curiosity glues her to her spot. She wants some sort of answer that will satisfy her, though she knows deep down that this won't happen. She wants to be given a reason why.

However, Lily is stronger than she looks. She drags Guinevere as hard as she can, nearly causing her to fall over. Guinevere shoots her a glare, but begins to walk back with her regardless.

The two walk back to the dormitory in complete silence and go straight to bed when they get back. They don't talk about what they heard, and Guinevere has no plans to bring it up with her in the future.

* * *

Like every morning before a Quidditch game, Guinevere wakes up an hour before breakfast to get dressed. But this morning, that's not the only reason why she's awake at this hour.

After she pulls on her Quidditch uniform, she sits on a couch in the common room and waits. People trickle in from their dorms slowly, stumbling their way out the door in a mad dash to get food. Guinevere scrutinizes the students as they pass by, looking for her target.

As always, the Marauders exit their dorm in a group. James seems to be the only one awake and alert out of them all, and that's most likely entirely due to the excitement of the Quidditch game. Otherwise, he'd probably look as dead on his feet as his best friends.

"C'mon, boys, look alive!" he says with a spring in his step.

"Shut it, Prongs," Remus grunts, rubbing his eyes.

Guinevere gets up off the couch and approaches the boys, blocking their way to the exit. James gives her a curious look.

"Driscoll? Is something wrong? You know we have a-,"

"Quidditch game later, I know," Guinevere finishes for him. "I just need to borrow Black for a few minutes, if you all don't mind."

James, Peter, and Remus all share a knowing smirk that irritates Guinevere to no end. What do they think she's going to do? Snog Sirius before a game for good luck?

The Marauders step aside, leaving a very confused Sirius standing there, staring back at Guinevere.

"Of course," James replies.

"Just don't injure him," Remus adds.

"Not severely, at least," Peter amends.

"And remember that his curfew is midnight at the latest," James says.

Guinevere holds her hand up to stop them.

"Boys, you don't want to be late for breakfast, do you?"

The three of them look at each, having a silent discussion that Guinevere isn't privy to. They do this often when actual words aren't an option, such as during a class or when they have a secret to keep. The mental connection between the boys is just as strong as Guinevere's own connection to Lily, if not stronger. It astounds her sometimes.

"See you at the game, Driscoll," James says. "Be prepared!"

Guinevere rolls her eyes, but can't stop herself from cracking a tiny grin. James's enthusiasm for Quidditch is unparalleled.

"Will do, captain."

He gives her that Hogwarts famous Potter smile and hurries Remus and Peter out the door. That leaves Guinevere and Sirius behind, staring straight at each other. The latter looks thoroughly confused.

"As much as I enjoy your company, Gwen-Of-Air, I was on my way to-,"

She cuts him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs. He stumbles and gives a grunt of surprise at her sudden aggressiveness. Nevertheless, he follows her without protest as she drags him towards his dorm. Her own is occupied by three very sleepy girls who wouldn't appreciate the intrusion, and it's well known that the Marauders all share a room. No one will interrupt them.

She storms into their room and drops Sirius's hand. She must not have noticed how tightly she was holding on, because when she looks at her knuckles, the color is just starting to return to them.

The first thing in the room that her eyes fall on is a turntable record player sitting on the nightstand of the bed across from the door. Several well-loved record sleeves are scattered about on top of the record player and leaning against the wall. They're all muggle bands and singers that Guinevere recognizes well. From just a quick glance, she spots records from Queen, The Rolling Stones, and David Bowie.

 _Lots_ of David Bowie.

"This is the second time you've dragged me off somewhere," Sirius points out. "A bedroom this time, Gwen-Of-Air? You're getting bold."

She rolls her eyes.

"Sirius, I have something important to tell you and I need you to listen to me without any interruptions."

He blinks at her. In just a few seconds, his entire demeanor changes. The joking smirk slips off his face and his lips re-shape themselves into a thin line. His grey eyes narrow slightly and his spine straightens.

"Go on," he urges.

She takes a deep breath.

"Your brother is going become one of Voldemort's followers," she blurts out.

Guinevere swears she sees something pass behind his eyes, along with a violent twitch of his jaw, but he swallows hard and transforms his face back into the mask it was before.

"There's this mark of sorts that Voldemort uses to connect his followers and some other students have already gotten it. It's permanent and only Voldemort himself can give it to someone, but it's only given to his most trusted inner circle. Snape said that Regulus will get it over Christmas break so there's still time for you to-,"

" _Driscoll_."

She bites down on her tongue to stop herself from rambling further. She's given Sirius the general overview. He just doesn't want her to drone on now that he has more than enough information to stop this from happening. Yes, that's it.

"I don't care what my brother does."

She takes a step back.

Out of all the answers he could have given her, that was the last one she expected.

"What do you _mean_ you don't care what he does?" she hisses. "He's your brother!"

Her hands curl up into fists at her side as she glares daggers at him. She's felt many things while around Sirius; anger, annoyance, sadness, sympathy, and even joy. But she's never felt disgust as she does now.

His clenched jaw twitches again. Otherwise, his face is hard and unyielding as stone.

"You know nothing about my family," he snaps. "My parents raised Reg and I to be pureblood fanatics just like them. It never took with me, but it's not my fault it took with him. It's not my responsibility to change him."

The scream she felt building up in her the night before is once again crawling up her chest and seizing her throat. She bites down on the inside of her cheek to tame it.

"But he's still your family! Don't you think you should at least _try_ to get through to him? If it was a member of my family, I would-,"

Sirius cuts her off with a barking laugh. Her ire rises even more. If there's one thing she hates, it's being laughed at during an argument. She despises the dismissiveness of it, as if she isn't an equal force to be reckoned with.

"I'm not fool enough to think talking to him would change a damn thing," he says coldly. "They're all absolutely batty, the entire lot of 'em. I've barely spoken to Reg in years. The last time he even glanced my way was the day I left to go live with the Potters in 5th year. Mum was just thrilled to have an excuse to disown me. In her mind, I stopped being her son the minute the sorting hat shouted "GRYFFIDNOR!"."

Guinevere had opened her mouth to yell back at him, but when her anger wanes enough to allow her to process his words, she falters. She tries to imagine an eleven year old Sirius, bright and excitable with a mop of curly dark hair and mischievous eyes, waiting for a letter from home for months and months and never receiving one. She can't even imagine how crushing that would be to her now, much less as a young girl.

"I'm sure you'd help _your_ family out in a pinch. But I'm not like you, Driscoll. As far as I'm concerned, Reg is a stranger."

He turns on his heels walks right out, leaving the door open and Guinevere standing there, watching his back as he retreats.

* * *

The Quidditch match this morning is Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff.

Based on Hufflepuff's performance in their game with Slytherin earlier in the week, James has expressed his confidence that the Gryffindor team has the upper-hand in this game. The only thing the Hufflepuff team really has going for them this season is their new beaters. They're apparently vicious in where they aim their bludgers and sent a Slytherin chaser to the hospital wing for a week. Otherwise, they're woefully underprepared.

The confident grin on James's face as both sides mount their brooms makes Guinevere even more determined to win this game. She wouldn't be able to bear the disappointment on her teammates' faces, especially James. They're so sure they have an easy game ahead of them.

She needs to push all thoughts of her fight with Sirius out of her head. Any distraction could mean the difference between a victory or a crushing defeat.

The quaffle is thrown up.

And so the game begins.

The game begins on a good note when none of the Hufflepuff chasers are able to steal the quaffle. James grabs the it before Guinevere or anyone else is able, so she flies behind him to act as a defense against any Hufflepuffs attempting to steal it. He leans forward on his broom and begins racing towards the goal with Guinevere following behind far enough to give him space, but close enough to intercept any interference.

She'd like to _see_ anyone attempt to take the quaffle from him. When James is playing Quidditch, he's dangerous.

On James's right side, Guinevere spots one of the Hufflepuff beaters preparing to hit an oncoming bludger their way. The beater is a rather brutish looking boy with squinty eyes and beefy arms that look like they could hit a bludger past the stands and into the Black Lake. She instantly knows that this was the beater who put a Slytherin in the hospital wing for a week.

"Beater on your right!" Guinevere yells loud enough for James to hear.

James whips his head in the beater's direction, seconds before his bat comes in contact with the bludger. James and Guinevere both duck just in time. The bludger passes right over James's head, just barely grazing the messy brown hair sticking up one the back of his head.

However, the third Gryffindor chaser isn't so lucky. The bludger flies far enough to hit him in the shoulder, sending him spiraling out of control. His height is the only thing that saves him from a blow to the head.

 _The bastard was aiming for James's head._

Rumors of their viciousness did them no justice.

Guinevere flies ahead of James, opening her arms. Passing the quaffle back and forth may be a way to slow the beaters down. Moving targets are far harder to hit.

James seems to get the message. He tosses the quaffle in Guinevere's direction.

Guinevere sees it all in slow motion:

The quaffle leaves James's hands.

It flies through the sky towards her open arms.

James looks over Guinevere's shoulder.

His face drops.

He shouts something at her she can't quite understand.

What feels like a few minutes is actually only a few seconds.

As the quaffle lands in Guinevere's arms, a bludger slams into her right shoulder with a sickening crack. She starts to fall forward.

A mad panic seizes Guinevere when she feels her body slipping away from her broom. All her Quidditch training goes out the window in favor of her survival instincts. She drops the quaffle and makes a desperate attempt to curl her body up and grab ahold of her broom, but it's too late. Her feet are already slipping off.

Her arms are flailing desperately in a failed attempt to stop from falling. A feeling of complete and utter helplessness fills her, tying her stomach up into knots. It's a terrifying thing to watch the ground become closer and closer while knowing there's absolutely nothing she can do to stop it. Her heart is beating so fast that she doesn't know what will kill her first; cracking her head open on the ground or getting cardiac arrest while in mid-air.

Her only solace comes from losing consciousness before she can hit the ground.

* * *

 **A/N: I know I keep leaving authors notes lately and I'm not usually keen on that, yet here I am. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, which happens to be my longest one. I actually had a lot of trouble writing it. I knew what I wanted to happen but the words weren't coming to me for some reason. But I hope you enjoyed! And as always, I encourage reviews. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

_"You think she has brain damage?"_

 _"Dorcas, don't be stupid. She didn't hit her head."_

 _"Well then why isn't she waking up? We've been here_ forever. _"_

 _"Just because she's not awake yet doesn't mean something's wrong with her. And it's only been a few hours. Quit your complaining before I put_ you _in a hospital bed."_

 _"We've been here for 5 hours, to be exact."_

 _"Thanks for counting, Pete."_

The first thing Guinevere is aware of when she comes to is a pounding headache. Her forehead feels as though it's about to split open and spill her brain matter everywhere. In her foggy state, she wonders if she's hit her head on the ground and this is her last moment of semi-lucidity before she'll fall into a deep sleep, never to wake up again.

She attempts to make some sort of noise to convey that she's coming back to consciousness, but all that comes out of her mouth is a weak groan.

 _"Did you hear that? She made a noise!"_

 _"James, for Merlin's sake, calm down! You'll startle her."_

 _"Well excuse_ me _for being a concerned captain and wanting to ensure the health of my underlings."_

 _"'Underlings'? Really, James, you make me question our relationship."_

 _"Should we get Madam Pomfrey?"_

 _"She's already dealing with a student who blasted three of his fingers off. I think we'll be fine on our own."_

Guinevere's eyes slowly flutter open, squinting to adjust to the light. Seven blurry figures surround her, towering above as she lays down on a cushy surface.

She blinks a few times until the world comes into focus. The fog in her brain is lifted. She looks around her and sees Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Alice, James, Peter, and Sirius all surrounding her bedside. Their expressions betray a mixture of concern and relief. She looks to her left and sees a nightstand with a chunky looking blue potion bottle sitting on top next to a used glass.

She's in the hospital wing. She's okay. Everything is okay.

Well, besides that damn pain in her head. But at least it's not cracked open.

"Guin?" Alice prods. "Are you alright?"

Guinevere nods vigorously, then lets out a groan. The action makes her head pound even more.

"Fine, fine. Did we win the game?"

James chuckles. Guinevere's eyes flit down to his hand. It's clutching onto Lily's, half-hidden by their robes. Lily looks like she's squeezing his hand tightly, like he's her lifeline.

"O'Laughlin caught the snitch pretty soon after you fell," he informs her. "Everybody was so distracted that he just snatched it right up and no one took any notice until Madam Hooch called the game. We won."

She sighs in relief. Her worst fear would have been causing her team to lose the game. She knows that all the credit goes to their seeker for catching the snitch, but a small bit of pride swells in her for being the distraction he needed. Even while plummeting off her broom to what she thought was sure death, she helped her team in a way.

"I thought you were gonna die!" Marlene blurts out. Her eyes are rimmed red and her face is flushed. She looks like she's been crying for most of the day.

Guilt rolls over in Guinevere's stomach. Sometimes she thinks Marlene's heart is too large for her to handle.

Before she can say something to reassure her sensitive friend that she's going to be okay, Dorcas scoffs at her.

"She just fell from her broom. Plenty of people do that during Quidditch games and they don't die."

Marlene sniffs and rubs at her eyes to get rid of traces of tears. Lily elbows Dorcas.

"Be nice!" she hisses. "Marlene was just worried. We all were."

Dorcas rubs her side and glares at Lily. Guinevere holds back a laugh; Lily is known to have a sharp jab; and a sharp right hook, if you make her angry enough.

"You broke your shoulder blade," Peter informs her. "Madam Pomfrey had to plug your nose to get you to drink the potion to heal it. Even in your sleep, you must have hated it, because you kept spitting it out."

So that explains the blue film around the inside of the glass on the nightstand. Guinevere finds that she's immensely grateful Madam Pomfrey gave it to her while she was sleeping. There's no telling how foul it tastes. If it's anything like the potion she had to take in 4th year to heal her broken wrist, it's worse than dragon dung.

Guinevere glances around at all of her friends and realizes a very important person is missing from the group.

"Where's Remus?"

James, Sirius, and Peter look at each other in what is yet another silent Marauder conversation. Guinevere is immediately suspicious of anything they're about to tell her. If they have to confer with each other over it, it's likely not true.

"He's not feeling well," James says. "He's laying down."

"Looks _real bad_ too," Peter adds.

"He probably won't be in tip top shape until the day after tomorrow at the earliest," Sirius claims.

She nods, but once again it sends shock waves of pain pulsing to her head. She winces and rubs her temples. The pain distracts her from any thoughts of Remus and where he could really be.

"Madam Pomfrey said a headache is a side effect of the potion," Peter supplies. "And also sometimes it can turn your skin blue, but she gave it to you hours ago and your skin isn't blue so I don't think that'll happen."

Guinevere groans. Magic may be able to do many extraordinary things, but sometimes she'd prefer the muggle way. At least Tylenol isn't likely to give her blue skin.

"So if I didn't fall on my head, what did I fall on?"

The three Marauders present all snort with badly concealed laughter. Lily's world famous glare is enough to get James to bite down on his tongue to stop it.

It's Dorcas who eventually answers the question,

"You fell on your arse."

This time the boys can't stop their laughter, even James, and Guinevere feels her cheeks heat up. Nearly all the student body saw her fall on her butt. She's no doubt going to be hearing snarky comments jeered at her in the corridors for weeks to come.

"C'mon guys, leave her alone," Marlene says. "Madam Pomfrey wants to keep her overnight. She needs sleep."

Guinevere is immensely grateful for Marlene's interference. Though she loves her friends, she's beginning to feel crowded.

"Will you be fine on your own, Guin?" Lily asks.

"I'll be fine. If my skin turns blue, I'll just alert Madam Pomfrey."

Lily laughs and bids her friend goodbye, ushering everybody away from her bedside like a fussy mother hen. The group shuffles out together with only mild complaints, mostly from Dorcas, who resents being herded out like cattle.

Guinevere notices Sirius putting distance between himself and the rest of them. He lingers behind them, as if he doesn't want to leave.

 _Strange_ , she thinks. _Even_ I _wish I could leave._

When they all walk out, Sirius stops at the door.

Then he turns back around and starts walking to Guinevere's bed.

She chokes on air.

"Wh-What are you… You shouldn't… Why…"

Sirius reaches out and grabs a chair, pulling it towards her bed and sitting down, all while maintaining eye contact with Guinevere. She stares back at him.

"You were right, you know," he states simply.

She blinks at him.

"About what exactly…?"

"About what you said about family," he clarifies. "When you told me I should at least _try_ to help Reg. You were right."

The argument comes flooding back to her, making her flush with shame. In the heat of the moment, she was so passionate in her beliefs. Looking back now, she realizes she let her emotions get the better of her. She overstepped her bounds and assumed things about his family and the way he was raised that she had no right to.

How many times has she assumed his life was perfect because he came from a rich, well known pureblood family?

"No, I wasn't," she insists. "I shouldn't have tried to guilt you like that. I had no idea what your family was like. I just thought of my own and what I would do if I thought one of them was in danger. If I were you, I guess I wouldn't be too keen on helping him either."

There's shame written on his face as well, which Guinevere believes to be undeserved. He didn't say anything to her that she didn't have coming.

"It's not his fault we were raised the way we were," he murmurs. "Reg was always a good kid. But after I got sorted into Gryffindor, our parents treated him like he was their _only_ kid."

Once again, Guinevere tries to imagine a much younger Sirius Black, what he must have felt like going from the apple of his parents' eye to the black sheep. Her stomach twists in disgust thinking of any parent alienating their child for something as simple as what house they're sorted into.

She's never wanted to be a pureblood in her life, but now is one of the times where she takes the time to be immensely grateful that she wasn't born into a pureblood family like Sirius's.

"We drifted apart," he admits. "And then when I ran away…"

His fists clench on his lap.

"I should have taken him with me. He's doing this because Mummy dearest wants him to, I know it. He always tried too hard to stay in her good graces after he saw how easy it was for her to blast me right off the family tree. If he does this, it will be my fault for leaving him there."

Guinevere stares at him. Sirius Black has never struck her as an emotional person in the slightest. Even now, as he's revealing more to her about his life than he ever has before, there's a certain amount of emotional distance between them. His fists are clenched to conceal what she thinks is frustration, and his tone remains even.

She can't help but think emotions were frowned upon in the Black family.

"You were so insistent earlier," she says. "What changed your mind?"

His tongue darts out and wets his lips. Guinevere remembers Dorcas saying something about how boys lick their lips around a girl when they want to kiss her.

She still thinks that's ridiculous and that Dorcas knows nothing.

"I thought about my brother when I was watching you fall."

Guinevere raises an eyebrow, not sure whether or not she should feel offended.

"Not that I wasn't worried about you," he hurries to reassure her. "But you know that same Hufflepuff beater broke a Slytherin player's jaw _and_ leg. Poor bloke was still in here sleeping off a healing potion when they brought you in. All I could think about when I saw you fall and when I saw that poor Slytherin bastard was _that could have been my brother_."

She's not quite sure how to respond. His earlier insistence that "Reg is a stranger" still rings in her head.

"My brother and I aren't close," he says, as if he could read her thoughts. "We haven't been close in years. But I still bloody _care_ about him, for Merlin's sake. I don't want to see him hurt or dead or even worse: making our mother proud."

Guinevere snorts.

"You have your priorities straight," she jokes.

Sirius cracks a small smile.

"You underestimate how much I hate that old hag."

She smiles back at him. The throbbing in her head is starting to go down considerably, which is strange; usually being around Sirius makes her head throb _more_.

Their light laughter and smiles fall away, leaving them in a stifling silence. Sirius looks down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. Guinevere lays back in her bed and looks up at the ceiling.

Should she ask him to leave so she can get some rest? They've resolved their issue. They both apologized for their respective roles in the fight. He did what he came here for. Why is he not leaving?

"I, um…" Sirius begins, wringing his hands uncomfortably.

In all their years at Hogwarts together, Guinevere can't remember ever hearing Sirius stumble over his words or say "um". He has never been the type to be prone to nervousness. He's bold and brash, the picture perfect Gryffindor that Guinevere has always wished she could be.

But right now, he seems to be acting more like _her_ than himself.

"I know we, uh, got off on the wrong foot in… uh, first year," he continues.

She narrows his eyes at him, wondering where he's going with this. He doesn't need to tell _her_ that they "got off on the wrong foot". She still remembers quite well the first time he called her "Gwen-Of-Air".

"And every year after that," she adds.

The corners of his lips tug up into a grin.

"And every year after that," he amends. "But I really don't hate you, Guinevere. I never have, and I don't want you to think that I do."

 _Guinevere_.

She's heard him call her Driscoll, and of course, the dreaded "Gwen-Of-Air", but never _Guinevere_.

It catches her completely off-guard. She would sooner expect Snape to wax lyrical about his love for muggleborns.

When she looks over at him again, it's as if she's seeing an entirely different Sirius from the one she's only barely tolerated for over six years. She doesn't look into his eyes and see a mischievous glint that has her looking around for signs of a prank coming her way. She sees a softness she never knew he was capable of. The curve of his smile doesn't make Guinevere scowl back in response. Instead, she wants to replicate it. It's infectious.

How did she never notice these subtle changes until now?

"I don't hate you either," she whispers.

She's not sure why her words came out in a whisper.

Sirius brightens up considerably at her words.

 _Did he think she hated him?_

She used to _dislike_ him, sure, but she never considered what she felt to be a hatred. Sirius was never a bad person.

"So…"

He sticks his hand out.

"Friends?"

Guinevere smiles and takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Friends."

When she met Sirius Black in the third week of her first year, she imagined seven years of teasing and prodding and screaming matches. She never imagined that she would one day consider him to be a friend. Yet here she is, clutching his hand as if they're as close as she is with Lily and Marlene and Alice and Dorcas.

Sirius drops their handshake, as if he just now noticed how long it was going on.

"I should leave," he says. "You need to get some sleep so you'll have the energy to find that beater tomorrow and knock him unconscious with his own stick."

Guinevere smirks at the thought. She's normally a pacifist, but the idea sounds dangerously appealing at the moment.

"Don't worry about me, I can handle it," she assures him. "See ya later, _Sirius_."

From the toothy grin he gives her, she knows the meaning of her words isn't lost on him. She rarely uses his first name, instead calling him "Black" or "you prat", depending on her mood.

"See ya later, _Guinevere_."

She decides she quite likes hearing him say her name. It doesn't sound too long or clunky and strange like she's always believed her name to be. It sounds regal, somehow. Like the queen she was named for.

When Sirius is about to cross the threshold into the corridor, Guinevere calls out to him,

"Hey Sirius! Whose turntable was that sitting in your room?"

He turns back to face her briefly, a look of confusion on his face.

"Mine. Why do you ask?"

The confession brings a mental image to Guinevere's brain of Sirius Black, the former heir to one of the oldest and most well known pureblood families in the wizarding world, dancing alone in his room to _Ziggy Stardust_ on a Saturday night.

She smiles to herself.

"No reason. Just curious."


	11. Chapter 11

Much to Guinevere's delight, Madam Pomfrey allows her to leave the hospital wing early the next day with the promise that she'll spend most of the day resting. Healing potions are not always an easy fix; they can take a lot out of a person and leave them groggy for hours, if not days to come.

Guinevere still feels sore, but she manages to drag herself to arithmancy, ancient runes, and astronomy without complaint. All three are classes that she genuinely enjoys, and no injuries are going to stop her from attending. Even when all her classes involve sitting for hours and those benches make her feel as though her bum is about to fall off, she refuses to skip class and rest.

Whenever she considers skipping a class, she just thinks about going home at the end of every school year to a world completely void of magic, unable to use it herself due to the laws on underage wizardry. She remembers how much she'd give to be back at Hogwarts attending classes, even the ones she considers to be boring. She has always sworn to herself that she wouldn't take magic for granted like so many pureblood students do, and that includes her classes.

By the time dinner rolls around, the soreness is slowly ebbing away and she has absolutely no problem sitting down on the cold, hard benches for the feast. Her friends all greet her with cheers, like she's some kind of hero coming back from war. She finds it ridiculous; it's not as if she was dying in the hospital wing. She just fell on her arse.

But she accepts their cheers nonetheless. There's nothing wrong with a little boost to her self-esteem.

"It's good to see you sitting without any difficulty," James says. "You guys should have seen her during astronomy. All I could hear was her seat creaking throughout the entire class."

Laughter spreads through the group when Guinevere chucks a small slice of potato at his face. James dodges with ease, his reflexes honed from years of dodging bludgers on the Quidditch pitch. Much to her horror, it flies past him and hits a Ravenclaw girl in the back of the head.

Guinevere immediately looks around at her friends, pretending to be absorbed in conversation when the Ravenclaw turns around and looks for the person who hit her. The look in her eyes is practically homicidal, and Guinevere is sure she doesn't want to own up to her deed.

Her friends barely stifle their laughter.

"Nice shot," Marlene giggles.

Guinevere rolls her eyes at her friend, her eyes flitting away from her. Seconds later, she does a double take.

Marlene, who had long raven colored hair only a day before, is now a bleach blonde with her hair chopped up to her shoulders. Guinevere's fork falls from her hand and lands on her plate with a loud clank.

"Marlene?" she asks. "What in the hell happened to your hair?"

Marlene frowns, clutching onto her newly short hair as if it's a comfort blanket. Guinevere instantly regrets her choice of words. Of course Marlene took it as an insult.

"You don't like it?" she asks with a crestfallen expression. "I bleached it last night with a quick hair charm I found in _Beauty Tips For The Average Teenage Witch_. Alice cut it for me. Is it really that bad…?"

Alice whips her head over to Guinevere, glowering at her as if to say "don't you dare".

Guinevere reaches over Alice to grab Marlene's hand, squeezing it and smiling at her.

"It's beautiful. It was just a shock, is all. But now that I'm getting used to it, I think it looks even better like that. Blonde really suits you, Marls."

Marlene gives her an appreciative smile and squeezes her hand back. Guinevere knows that the one thing Marlene wants more than anything else in the world is to feel pretty, something she has rarely felt in her seventeen years. She doesn't understand why; Marlene is gorgeous. But she won't begrudge her a few beauty charms to lift her self-esteem even slightly.

"I'm thinking of chopping off my own hair," Alice admits, running a hand through her dirty blonde locks. "Maybe a pixie cut? Aren't those popular in muggle style now?"

Lily and Guinevere nod their approval. Both girls regularly indulge in muggle beauty magazines, if for nothing more than to know what has gone out of style since they were last in the muggle world.

"I don't understand why it's called a pixie cut," Dorcas cuts in. "Pixies don't have hair."

Guinevere is eternally thankful that she has Lily to exchange an exasperated glance with when their pureblood and half-blood friends make comments like that. If only Remus was here to partake as well.

Speaking of the Marauders, Guinevere looks over at them to see the three remaining boys engrossed in a lively conversation. From the way Sirius has his arm flung over Peter's shoulder, she can assume it's about the mousy boy.

"This girl is a Hufflepuff, right?" Sirius asks. Peter nods his head vigorously, looking rather pale and nervous.

 _Well, more so than usual at least,_ Guinevere thinks.

"Win her over with some sappy sweet gesture then! Like chocolates or flowers or a tattoo of her name above your heart. I'd bet any girl in Hufflepuff would love that."

Peter squeaks his disapproval over the last suggestion.

"Don't listen to him, Pete," James insists. "You just have to play it cool. Be confident. Women love a man with confidence. Ruffle up your hair a bit too. They can't get enough of that."

Sirius snorts, reaching over Peter to give James a light shove.

"What would _you_ know about being "cool"?" he jokes. "You wouldn't know cool if it threw you into the Whomping Willow."

James picks up his fork and uses it to point at Lily, who sits across from him, her eyes scanning her charms book.

"How do you think I landed her? My intelligence?"

Without even looking up, Lily deadpans,

"What intelligence?"

Guinevere and Sirius both cover the mouths to keep the laughter in. James sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he's just been wounded.

"You only love me for my body," he jokes. Lily nods absentmindedly.

"About time you figured it out."

When their laughter dies down and James's words sink in, Guinevere and Sirius make eye contact with each other across the table. Both picked up on his choice of words and are grinning at each other like they've just heard the juiciest piece of gossip in Hogwarts history.

 _Love_. He used the word _love_.

Sure, it was a joke, but Guinevere is sure that the word wasn't thrown out without feeling.

James looks back and forth at Sirius and Guinevere with furrowed brows.

"What are you two going on abou-…"

He trails off, his mouth hanging open as he seems to realize what it is he said. It doesn't take long for Guinevere to surmise that this is the first time James has said he loves Lily in any capacity.

Besides those god awful poems he wrote about her years ago, that is.

Lily finally pokes her head up from her book, taking in James's slack jawed expression.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a boggart."

James sputters out some words that sound like absolute gibberish to Guinevere. His face is rapidly turning a dark shade of red.

"He realized he said the "L-word"," Sirius supplies. He then slaps James on the back, getting him to cough like he'd been choking on something.

Lily raises an eyebrow, seeming more annoyed at the interruption to her reading than anything else.

"And? I love him too. I don't see why you're making a fuss about it."

If James looked like he was choking before, he looks like he's going into full cardiac arrest now. He clutches his chest as if he thinks he can force his heart to stop racing. Guinevere is concerned that he may actually collapse right there at the table.

"Y-Y-You l-love me?" he stutters.

Lily squints at him, taking in his frazzled appearance.

"Of course I do," she responds, as if it's the most simple thing in the world. "Do you not love me back?"

James shakes his head violently.

"No, no- I mean yes! Yes I do love you! I meant no as in I don't _not_ love you. Because I _do_ love you. Of course I love you."

Lily smiles softly and gives a small nod.

"Good. Then the matter is settled. We love each other and that's that."

She goes back to reading her charms book, and leaves James with the biggest, brightest smile Guinevere has ever seen on a person in her entire life.

* * *

The healing potion obviously didn't completely wear off completely like Guinevere had hoped, if her waking up on a couch in the deserted Gryffindor common room is any indication.

Madam Pomfrey warned her that grogginess can be a side effect of the potion, but she thought that since she had been active all day without any problems, she had been spared that particular side effect.

 _Apparently not_.

Her exhaustion crept up on her towards dessert. It took all she had no to fall asleep into her treacle tart. The last thing she remembers is stumbling into the Gryffindor common room after dinner and laying down on the couch for what she thought was going to be a few minutes of "resting her eyes". As soon as her eyes closed, however, she was out like a light.

And now she's waking up to someone poking her in the cheek.

Her eyes fly open and she grabs onto the offending hand. When she scans up the mysterious hand and past the arm, she finds it belongs to none other than Sirius Black, who looks like he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and not _on her fecking face_.

Guinevere sighs in relief and releases her iron grip on his wrist.

"Sirius! You scared me half to death! The next time you do that, you won't be lucky enough to keep your hand afterwards."

He merely shrugs his apology, his ever present grin being a sign that he isn't _really_ sorry. Not that she expected any different.

"You've been sleeping down here for hours," he informs her. " _Someone_ had to wake you eventually. Just be glad it was me and not someone in a lower year. I'm sure they would have _loved_ to test out some of the jinxes they've learned."

Guinevere rolls her eyes and grabs the pillow closest to her, smacking him in the chest with it. He chuckles and tosses it to the floor. Despite the annoyance she knows she should feel, she cannot stop a grin from spreading across her face.

Sirius extends his hand to her, which she takes without hesitation.

Guinevere has held hands with many a boy in her day. She usually finds the practice as a whole to be unpleasant. Most boys whose hands she's held on dates or in those awkward moments before a first kiss have had cold, clammy hands that she couldn't wait to let go of.

But the hands of Sirius Black are dry and warm. There's no shakiness or nervousness in his grip. It's firm, confident.

 _As it should be,_ Guinevere scolds herself. _This isn't a first date. Of course he isn't nervous. You're just friends._

"Come with me," he requests, gently pulling her off the couch.

She allows him to guide her towards the stairs, assuming he'll be taking her to her dorm.

He turns towards his own instead.

Guinevere digs her heels down on the stone steps, nearly causing Sirius to topple back into her. He turns his head around and raises a questioning brow. She doesn't understand how he can lead her to _his_ room and then somehow be confused as to why _she's_ confused.

"Aren't your friends asleep?" she asks. He shakes his head.

"I'm the only one in tonight. The others have a previous engagement."

She has to purse her lips to keep herself from asking more questions as he leads her up the stairs and into his room. 'A previous engagement', huh?

It looks almost exactly the same way it did during Guinevere's brief visit the day before. Quidditch posters, Gryffindor flags, and pictures of all four Marauders are covering the walls. Some assorted objects tell her whose bed it is they're lying near; James has pictures of himself and Lily as well as what looks to be his parents above his bed, Remus has muggle novels that Guinevere knows he enjoys stacked on his nightstand, and Peter has daisies tied carefully at the stem on his.

He must have taken Sirius's advice to heart.

The only difference from the previous day she can spot is the scattered records, which are now neatly stacked on the floor next to the nightstand where the turntable resides.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know, if you try anything, I know hexes that will make the Cruciatus Curse seem like child's play."

It's an empty threat, and they both know it. Guinevere knows Sirius would never "try anything". Despite his many flaws, he's not that kind of wizard. But it's not in her nature to agree to something so easily, especially when it involves Sirius.

"On my honor as a Gryffindor, I promise no harm will befall you," he says, jokingly giving her a bow. Guinevere is glad his eyes are facing the floor; that way he can't see the smile on her face.

"I'm not supposed to be here. It's after hours. I should be in bed."

Her words sound forced even to her, but she feels compelled to say them. In these last few weeks, she has broken more rules than she has in all her years at Hogwarts. It's not a habit she wants to keep up.

Sirius hits her on the shoulder playfully, the way Guinevere has seen him do to his friends in the past. Her heart speeds up when she realizes that _she's_ included in that group now.

"Why such a stickler for the rules, Guinevere?" he taunts. "Afraid a professor is going to burst in here unannounced and drag you off to the dungeons for being out of bed? You know, by 7th year, I think they just _expect_ us to be in someone else's bed."

She decides to ignore that last comment of his.

"My best friend is Head Girl," she protests weakly. He snorts.

"And my best friend is Head Boy. Your point?"

He's got here there.

Guinevere finally gives in, letting her shoulders relax and her guard lower. Breaking the curfew is far too easy for her now. She's going to have to change that soon. Just not tonight.

"Fine, but my question still stands," she insists. "Why did you bring me here?"

Sirius flashes her a grin and walks over to his nightstand, his back turned to her. Guinevere stands on her tip-toes in an attempt to see what he's doing, but he's too tall. If the unmistakable sounds of a needle hitting a vinyl record is any indication, though, he's putting on an album.

After a few skipped beats that indicate the scratches of a well-loved record, music floods the room. Guinevere wracks her brain, trying to recognize the beat and the familiar sound of a synthesizer. When the singing begins, Guinevere finally realizes what song he's playing.

It's the new Bowie single, _Heroes_.

She can't deny the fact that she enjoys it. But the record came out _after_ they left for Hogwarts this year. She's only heard it before because of a very lucky muggleborn third year whose parents sent her the record for her birthday. How did Sirius get it?

And more importantly, why is he putting it on for her?

Before Guinevere can ask either of those questions, Sirius turns back around and grabs her hand. The excited gleam in his eyes reminds her of a child.

"Dance with me."

Guinevere opens her mouth, trying to force out some excuse, but all that escapes is a faint breath.

She should laugh in his face. She should outright refuse. She should question his motives. Merlin, she should at _least_ protest and insist she's never danced with someone before in her life; because she hasn't. Not counting horrid primary school dance classes, which she would much rather forget.

 _But you're already here,_ she reminds herself. _You're already out of bed when you shouldn't be and you love this song and you_ want _to dance._

Oh hell, why not?

Without a word, Guinevere guides Sirius's hands to her waist and places her own hands on his shoulders. There's still a large gap between them, but it's something. The smile he gives her could light up the entire Hogwarts castle for months, it's so bright.

He sways with her as the song continues.

' _I, I can remember…'_

Sirius grabs one of Guinevere's hands and raises his arm, giving her a twirl. It's clumsy and uncoordinated, but it's _fun_. She laughs as she nearly manages to trip over her own feet in the process.

 _'Standing, by the wall…'_

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifts her up into the air as if she's weightless. She squeals as soon as she feels her feet leaving the ground and hits Sirius on the chest in a half-hearted attempt to make him put her down. When he does, she feels a pang of regret deep in her chest. She wants to feel that weightlessness again.

 _'And the guns, shot above our heads…'_

By now, they've abandoned their original conservative positions. Sirius now has his arms wrapped firmly around Guinevere's waist, while she has her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that she fears she may strangle him. But if his flushed cheeks and breathless smile is any indication, that fear is completely unfounded.

 _'And we kissed, as though nothing could fall…'_

Sirius spins them both around the room, his hands planted on Guinevere's back. She can feel his chest pressing up against hers, their legs gliding in synch, the way his abdomen twitches when he barks with laughter. She doesn't feel scared of intimidated by their closeness the way she expected to. The only thing that scares her is how natural it feels.

 _'And the shame, was on the other side…'_

 _'Oh we can beat them, forever and ever…'_

The two stop spinning only when they're too dizzy to take it any longer. Guinevere grabs a fist full of Sirius's shirt, resting her head on his chest to catch her breath. She can hear his heart racing. Despite its speedy pace, she finds the _thump thump_ of blood flowing to be exhilarating. It's a precious reminder of the life that he still holds onto, despite the number of deaths and disappearances growing each and every day. She imagines her heart sounds the same way right about now.

If this isn't the definition of living, then she doesn't know what is.

 _'Then we could be heroes, just for one day…'_

 _'We can be heroes…'_

Guinevere closes her eyes and smiles into Sirius's shirt.

She's never been so happy to break the rules.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! In all honestly, I've been a little disheartened when it comes to this story lately. It doesn't seem to be all that popular. But there's so many stories in the Harry Potter section on here and if I enjoy writing this story, then it shouldn't matter. So I'm going to continue! However, if you could leave a review, that would much be appreciated. Until next time!**


	12. Chapter 12

As much as he'd like to forget it, Sirius Black can remember the last conversation he had with his brother like it was yesterday.

It was the summer before his 5th year, and he had just gotten into a terrible row with his parents; far worse than every other row had had ever gotten into with them in his four years of near weekly rows. That was when he decided he had enough. He decided that night that he would run away to the Potters', like he should have done a long time ago.

When he stormed up to his room to pack, Regulus was there, waiting for him.

 _Sirius swung his door open and stormed in, paying no mind to Regulus sitting on his bed. He walked right past him and over to the trunk he already had half-packed. He was so ready to go back to Hogwarts that he didn't even bother to unpack fully when he got back to Grimmuald Place._

 _He grabbed the trunk and threw it at the bed, where it landed right next to Regulus. Still, Sirius didn't spare his brother a second glance. He just stalked over to his wardrobe and began taking out the muggle clothes he had hidden deep in the drawers._

 _"Sirius…"_

 _Sirius's head snapped over to where his brother sat. Regulus's eyes were wide and sad, like a kicked puppy, and he was biting down on his lip as if to hold tears at bay. All Sirius could feel when he looked into those similarly grey eyes was resentment._

 _Regulus was everything his parents wanted him to be._

 _"What do you want?" Sirius snapped, shoving his clothes into his trunk._

 _Much to his shock, Regulus reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him from going to get the last of his things._

 _"Don't go."_

 _Sirius tore his hand away violently._

 _"Did Mummy put you up to this?" Sirius jeered. "Are you trying to keep me here so she won't turn on you too?"_

 _Regulus recoiled at the accusation. If Sirius hadn't been so enraged from his fight with his parents, he might have felt guilty. Just a little bit._

 _"No, Sirius, I-,"_

 _"But of course she wouldn't dare to hex her precious youngest son," he hissed as he shrunk his record collection to fit in his trunk._

 _When Sirius attempted to close the trunk, Regulus threw his body on top of it to stop him. It only fueled the anger that started building up inside him from the second he stepped off the Hogwarts Express to greet his parents a week before._

 _He shoved Regulus off the trunk so hard his younger brother tumbled off the bed._

 _"I'm leaving, Reg. I'd rather die than stay here for another second. Now you can either leave me the hell alone and let me go, or you can come with me and never have to deal with Mum and Dad again. Your choice."_

 _Regulus looked up at Sirius from his spot on the floor. His mouth was open, but no sounds were coming out. He only shook his head gently as tears gathered in his eyes. Sirius looked in the other direction, highly uncomfortable with the whole display._

 _"Sirius… You know I can't…"_

 _For a fraction of a second, Sirius had actually let himself believe that his brother would follow him. It could have been like old times, when Regulus followed Sirius around like a lost little duckling. It was stupid of him to believe that could ever happen again._

 _"Fine," he snapped. "See you at school, Regulus."_

 _The words were hollow and most likely untrue. Their paths rarely crossed at school, and now Sirius was already planning to make sure they_ never _did again._

 _He grabbed his trunk and stalked out of the room, his leg brushing Regulus's side on his way out. His little brother made no move to get up from the floor._

 _Against his better judgement, Sirius turned his head to see if Regulus was looking at him. He wanted to see if his brother was giving him one last desperate look, silently begging him to stay._

 _Regulus was staring down at the floor._

 _Sirius rushed down the stairs and out the door, ignoring the enraged shrieks of his mother. He took the Knight Bus to the Potters' that night, and he never regretted the decision for a second._

Sirius has barely glanced in Regulus's direction since that night. He tells himself every day that it's for the best. They're on different sides of an impending war. Sirius has no doubt that the time to declare an allegiance will come soon, and he knows unequivocally who his will be to.

He will always choose the family he made by choice. And Regulus will always choose the family he's chained to by blood. Nothing will change either of their minds.

So why in Merlin's name is Sirius here, leaning against the wall outside the transfiguration classroom, waiting for the Slytherin 6th years to exit? It's a mystery to him.

Okay, maybe that isn't _completely_ true. He knows why he's here. He just doesn't _want_ to be here.

It's all Guinevere's fault.

If she hadn't told him what his brother was planning to do and then gone off and gotten herself put in the hospital wing, none of this would be happening. There's something about that girl that always makes him confront feelings he'd rather leave alone.

The thought brings to mind their dance from a few nights before. His digs his fingernails into his arm, as if that can stop his heart from racing at the memory. She was so close to him; closer than either of them have ever allowed. She smiled with him, laughed with him, she even allowed him to pick her up. For a while, after the song died down and they were left with just the sounds of each other's breaths, he dared to hope that she would close the small gap between them and lean in for a kiss. Even just a kiss on the cheek would have been enough to overwhelm him in the best possible way.

But she didn't. She wished him a goodnight and went back to her own room like she should have done the minute he invited her inside. A real goody-two shoes, that one.

Sirius won't fool himself into believing she has the same feelings for him that he has for her. What girl, especially a muggleborn one, would want to be with someone tainted by a family legacy like his?

He shoves the thoughts aside when students begin pouring out of the classroom in droves. His eyes are scanning not only for Regulus, but for the less than desirable company that he keeps. Mulciber and Snivellus may be in Sirius's year, but Nott and one of the Rosier brothers are 6th years as well.

Sirius sneers at the thought of the company his brother is keeping. Filthy blood supremacists.

 _Mother must be so proud._

He spots the rabbit-like face of Nott before he sees his brother. That smirk on his face and his sniveling countenance is enough to make Sirius want to punch his teeth in. How Regulus stands being around him on a daily basis, he has no idea.

Sirius had originally planned on cornering Regulus while he was alone, but why should he care if his brother is around friends? Isn't embarrassing him what an older brother is for?

Marching over to the group of boys, Sirius grabs Regulus by the arm. The boy looks up at him with a blank expression. Sirius didn't expect that. He expected anger, maybe sadness, or at least shock. But Regulus…

There's nothing behind his eyes.

His so called "friends", though, give Sirius the exact reaction he expected.

"What are you doing, Black?" Nott snarls. Rosier just glowers at him. If looks could kill…

Sirius gives them both an annoyingly wide smile and tightens his grip on Regulus's arm. He vaguely remembers Guinevere saying something about smiling at people who insult her. It unnerves them, she said.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to borrow my brother for a few minutes. You'll get him back later."

With a harsh yank, he pulls Regulus away and down the corridor. His brother provides no resistance. He just lets Sirius drag him around a corner and down a corridor that he knows will be abandoned around this time of day. The last Muggle Studies class of the day let out over an hour ago.

When they make it to the entrance of the abandoned classroom, Sirius finally drops his hold on Regulus's arm. The younger boy stumbles back slightly, glaring up at him.

Sirius leans back against the wall.

"How're you doing, Reg?"

No answer.

Sirius grins at his little brother, trying not to let his own discomfort show.

"Good to hear! I'm doing good as well, thanks for asking. I just love these talks of ours."

Regulus rolls his eyes.

"What do you want, Sirius?"

He sounds too tired to be angry. A hand reaches up to run itself through his thick curls, a nervous habit of his that Sirius recognizes well.

"Just wanted to catch up," he replies, feigning innocence.

While he stalls for time to think about what he's going to say next, he scrutinizes Regulus. It's been a long few years of only occasional glances of each other on the way to class. Sirius never really paid closer attention until now, Somehow, he doesn't look much different. Just taller. Maybe a little bit thinner as well. And more… _tired_.

Regulus folds his arms across his chest and looks away from Sirius, but he doesn't leave. Sirius takes that as a good sign.

Neither brother says anything. Sirius is waiting for Regulus to say something, _anything_ that could give him an excuse to leave. Regulus is refusing to speak, no doubt waiting for Sirius to give up and leave on his own.

It's Sirius who breaks first.

"Are Mother and Father treating you well?"

Regulus's head snaps up and his stares into Sirius's eyes.

" _What?_ "

Sirius tried to keep his tone light and casual, concealing any real concern he felt. He wonders if Regulus saw through it. The brothers were never good at lying to each other.

"I just want to know if things are okay at home," he insists. "Er, _your_ home, I mean."

Regulus's grey eyes turn cold. It's a defense that Sirius recognizes all too well. He saw it reflected back at him in the mirror every time he went back to Grimmuald Place for the holidays.

"And how is that any of your business?" Regulus hisses. "No coming back, remember? Mother and Father's treatment of me hasn't been any concern of yours for the past two years. Why should that change now?"

The anger and the cold detachment are things that Sirius knows; they're things he can deal with. He finds himself relieved by it, in a way. An emotional reunion would have been way out of his comfort zone.

"Are they forcing you to do anything that you don't want to do?" Sirius presses. "Or your friends are? Or maybe Cissy or Bella? I hear Cissy's new husband is a real world class git. Is he trying to push you into anything… y'know… _bad_?"

Regulus goes rigid and swallows hard. He stares at Sirius dead on, his jaw set stubbornly. A silent understanding passes between the two brothers in the prolonged silence that follows.

Regulus knows that _Sirius_ knows.

It's a weight off Sirius's chest, knowing he doesn't have to say it outright. He came all the way here, faced Regulus, and _didn't_ leave when he had ample opportunity to. Shouldn't that be enough?

"That's none of your business," Regulus repeats lowly. "You left to live your own life. Stay out of mine."

His words hit Sirius like a bludger to the chest. It stings more than he would ever admit out loud, the reminder that he abandoned his brother to live with those absolute _monsters_. He's not sure how to put his guilt into words that Regulus would accept.

So he decides to get angry back.

" _You_ didn't want to come with me!" he snaps. "I gave you the choice, but you'd rather stay in that hell hole and do whatever _Mummy_ tells you to. Isn't that right?"

Regulus's large eyes shine with sadness. It's almost enough to make Sirius reconsider this course of action.

 _Almost._

"That isn't true," Regulus whispers. Sirius scoffs.

"Oh really? Then why are you planning on letting a homicidal maniac use dark magic _on your fucking arm_?!"

The effect his words have on Regulus is instantaneous. He turns white as a sheet and jerks his head around, looking to see if there were any potential witnesses. Sirius feels disgust.

His brother is already in so deep.

"What else was I _supposed_ to do?" he whispers desperately. "He doesn't distinguish between his enemies and people who refuse to pick a side. I don't want to die, Sirius."

 _I don't want to die._

The crippling fear in Regulus's voice when he utters that last sentence stuns Sirius into silence. How, in all of this mess, did he somehow manage to forget that Regulus is only sixteen years old?

It isn't fair. A sixteen year old shouldn't be forced to choose sides in a war. Regulus is no fool. He knows which side is looking stronger at the moment. He also knows which side will earn him his parents' favor.

If Sirius was a little bit weaker and a little bit younger, he may have done the same.

He reaches out and grabs Regulus by the shoulders. He wants to throttle him until that idiotic plan of his falls right out of his brain, but he squashes the urge.

"It's not too late to back out, Reg. You're not gonna die if you don't join him. You think I would let that happen?"

Standing there in that moment, with his hands on Regulus's shoulders and a playful lilt to his voice, Sirius is reminded of old times. Where it was him and Regulus against the world. Sirius was always the brave one, his brother's protector. He kept him safe from his mother's violent mood swings and the boggart that took up residence in their dresser. Even after Sirius was placed in Gryffindor, he was just glad that his parents now focused their anger on him exclusively and left his little brother alone.

When did things between them change so drastically?

Regulus jerks away from Sirius's grasp, his expression grim.

"It's too late for me to back out now, Sirius."

He rolls up the sleeve of his robe to reveal a vivd red tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

Sirius feels his heart drop down into his stomach. He thought Regulus wasn't getting the mark until Christmas break. He thought he had _plenty_ of time to talk him out of it. Yet here it is, mocking him for his inaction.

Out of a sick kind of curiosity, Sirius reaches his hand towards the mark. He traces it lightly. The skin underneath is raised, just like a normal tattoo, but a shock goes through his spine when he makes contact with it. He's sure he just imagined it, but it still unsettles him.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Regulus rolls his sleeve back down.

"You see? He'll always know where I am now. My life belongs to him."

Sirius hates this. He hates feeling so helpless to do _anything_ to help his brother.

"Regulus…," he breathes.

Regulus breaks eye contact with him, looking down at the floor. The conversation is over, and they both know it.

"Goodbye, Sirius. Take care of yourself."

He walks away, and Sirius lets him. As soon as he's out of sight, Sirius punches the wall as hard as he can. He grunts in pain when he feels his knuckles pop against the hard stone. When he pulls his fist away, he sees his blood decorating the wall.

In some deep crevice of his brain, a voice that sounds eerily similar to his mother's is telling him that he deserves it.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews on chapter 11! It made my entire month! That being said, I hope you liked this chapter from Sirius's POV, and I hope I was able to do him some justice. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Something has been bothering Lily all day. Guinevere knows it.

She just doesn't know what "it" is.

For starters, Lily was the first in their dorm to wake up today. She's _never_ the first to wake up. That title is usually held by Guinevere. But when Guinevere woke at the crack of dawn to get ready for breakfast, Lily was already dressed and in the process of shoving a piece of paper under her pillow.

That, in of itself, was enough to set off Guinevere's suspicions.

They ate breakfast together in complete silence. Marlene and Alice tried to engage Lily in conversation, but all she gave them was one-word answers. James attempted to tease her into a response, but she only rolled her eyes. Even Remus, who was looking worse for wear, attempted to get her to catch him up on what they missed in Transfiguration, but to no avail.

For the first time, Lily and Guinevere walk together to potions class in complete silence. Guinevere wants to ask Lily what's wrong, but she's not sure how to ask her without upsetting her further.

Words have always been Lily's specialty, not Guinevere's.

When they sit down at their desk, there's still a good few minutes before class is set to begin and they'll have to switch seats for partner work. If Guinevere wants to find out what's wrong with Lily, now is the time.

Guinevere kicks her feet back and forth like a nervous child, trying to think of something to say.

"So… What's got your wand in a knot?"

Somehow, her mouth acted faster than her brain.

Lily gives her a glare that's enough to reduce even the bravest of wizards to blubbering cowards. After years of friendship, Guinevere isn't afraid to say it still makes her flinch.

"I didn't… well, what I meant was… you know, I'm just worried about you and you weren't talking this morning, not that there's anything wro—"

"My sister sent me a wedding invitation yesterday."

Guinevere swallows the rest of her aimless words.

She spent a week at the Evans household last summer. While she was there, she got to know and love Mr. and Mrs. Evans as if they were a second set of parents. They were lovely, inviting people who welcomed her with open arms. But one person in the household that Guinevere didn't take to was Petunia Evans.

Lily's sister was standoffish from the moment Guinevere walked through the front door to the day she left. She even had the audacity to lob a few insults at Guinevere during her time there. She took shots at everything from her accent to her clothes to, of course, her magic. They were well hidden behind a veil of fake politeness.

Those are the types of insults Guinevere hates the most.

"Do you not like her fiancé?"

Lily scoffs.

"I've never even met him," she spits. "But that's not the point. She sent me an invitation. _Just_ an invitation."

Guinevere struggles to understand Lily's anger. She has no siblings of her own to base her judgments off of. Are siblings supposed to get some sort of special invitation? Was Petunia's fiancé supposed to ask Lily for permission first?

"What wrong with the invitation?"

Lily bites down on her lower lip and looks down at the table in front of them. It's an obvious attempt to hold back tears, but Guinevere pretends not to notice.

"It means she already has her bridesmaids picked out, Guin."

Oh.

 _Oh._

As understanding dawns on Guinevere, she feels righteous anger towards Petunia rise in her chest. That selfish, horse-faced, backstabbing little—

"Don't worry yourself over it," Lily insists. "I should have known she wouldn't want me to be a part of her wedding. It's just…"

Lily wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her robes in a valiant effort to be discrete, but Guinevere can still tell that tears are forming in her eyes. Again, she pretends not to notice. Lily isn't the type who wants her vulnerability to be acknowledged.

"You thought she'd at least want you to be a bridesmaid," Guinevere supplies for her. Lily nods stiffly.

Guinevere starts reaching over to wrap her arm around her friend, but retracts it. She has no idea how to comfort Lily. What words could possibly make this better? She desperately wishes that she could somehow fix this for her, but that's impossible. And it devastates her.

Lily's pain is her pain.

As soon as Slughorn announces that it's time to get in their pairs, Lily slides out of her seat and makes her way to the back of the class. Guinevere can't help but feel some pity for Cordelia Jenkins. There's no way that Lily will be putting up with her nonsense.

Sirius takes his place next to Guinevere and gives her a small smile. He was noticeably absent from breakfast that morning. And the morning before.

Not that Guinevere was worried or anything.

Without even having to ask her first, Sirius lights the fire under the cauldron. He knows by now how skittish she is when it comes to fire. The partnership that they've cultivated in this class is completely seamless. They're a well oiled machine.

As he pulls his hand away, Guinevere sees a flash of red pass her by. Without thought, she grabs his wrist. He's too stunned to resist when she turns his hand over.

His knuckles are all covered in fresh scabs.

"What the hell did you do to your hand?"

Sirius yanks his arm away.

"Nothing. Can you add the Ashwinder egg to the cauldron?"

Guinevere does as he says. She doesn't let the subject drop, though, and continues to press him as she adds in the horseradish.

" _That_ is not nothing," she deadpans. "Did you punch a wall or something? You should really take proper care of that, you know."

He growls in frustration and slams down the squill bulb he was attempting to juice.

"It's _nothing_ ," he repeats. "Can you _please_ mind your own business for once in your life?"

His accusation stings more than she expected it to. The ones that have truth behind them always hurt the most, it seems.

She grabs the Murtlap and begins chopping at it. They haven't even finished the previous step in the potion yet; she just wants something to occupy her attention.

She hears Sirius groan in frustration.

"Guin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—,"

"No, it's alright," she murmurs, pushing the chopped up part of the Murtlap into a small pile.

Sirius squeezes the juice out of the squill bulb and into the cauldron.

"No, it isn't," he insists. "I didn't mean that. I'm just a bit on edge lately. I talked to… _someone_ a few days ago."

Guinevere grabs the bits of Murtlap and tosses it into the cauldron, swiftly turning back to face him.

"You talked to Regulus?!"

Sirius holds a finger up to his lips, a sign for her to shut up before someone in the class hears. She feels her ears heat up in embarrassment and decides to make herself useful and grind up the Occamy eggshell.

"How did it go?" she asks, keeping her voice low this time.

Sirius's mouth forms into a grim line as he heats up the cauldron before adding tincture of thyme.

"It's too late for him now, Guin. It's already happened."

Her hand almost slips while funneling in the ground Occamy shells.

"But… _how_? Did it happen _here_?"

The idea that something so sinister could go on in the place she considers a second home is… unnerving, to say the least.

Sirius snorts and starts to stir the concoction.

"No idea. He didn't stick around long enough for me to ask."

Guinevere adds a sprinkle of powdered common rue. She's doing the entire potion by memory, having not looked at her book once since they began making the liquid luck. For a brief moment, panic grips her heart as she wonders if that was the next step or the step after, but it fades as quickly as it came. She decides that if this one potion ends up bad, then it's not the end of the world.

As much as she loves Potions, her heart just isn't in it today.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He stiffens and doesn't respond, instead focusing on stirring. Guinevere wonders if maybe "sorry" was the wrong thing to say.

The two continue to work on the potion together in total silence. Guinevere doesn't mind it, though. The silence gives her an opportunity to focus on their work instead of his pain or Lily's pain or her _own_ pain. Even without any words spoken, both parties seem to be in agreement about who does what job. They move fluidly, completely in synch with each other.

 _This should be considered a form of art,_ Guinevere decides.

They reach the last step considerably quicker than most pairs in the class. Since they've decided to be friends, this has become a continual thing. Not because they're any smarter than the other students in the class, Guinevere believes.

They just make a bloody good team.

"Meet me in my room before dinner," Sirius requests.

Guinevere stops in the middle of the figure eight shape she was waving her wand in.

She wants to ask him why, but she isn't willing to engage him in another conversation when they're so close to finishing this potion. She has Charms next and she has to track down Dorcas beforehand to get her book back.

"Sure."

It's rushed, said without really thinking. After all, she doesn't have any evening classes on Wednesdays. What's the harm of going to the boys' dormitory during the evening when she's already broken curfew and been in it at night?

Merlin, she hopes no one ever finds out she did that.

Clearing her throat, Guinevere twirls her wand in a figure eight and points down at the potion.

" _Felixempra_!"

* * *

After a nearly ten minute long battle to get Stevie Wonder to stop clawing at her robes, Guinevere finally manages to get the tabby to settle down. She had to transfigure her dresser into a scratching post, but at least his claws aren't buried in her leg anymore.

A little sweaty and covered in cat hair, Guinevere meets Sirius outside his dorm.

She'll be forever grateful that he didn't comment on her appearance.

He ushers her inside and, much to her surprise, sits down on his bed. She freezes.

The last time she was in here, they both remained standing. What is the etiquette in this situation? Should she sit down next to him? On his _bed_?

 _No_ , she decides. _I don't want to get_ too _comfortable_.

After a few very drawn out seconds in which Sirius is stares at her as if she's ill, Guinevere plops herself down on the trunk at the end of his bed. He raises an eyebrow.

"You comfortable?"

Her cheeks burn with the embarrassment of it all as she nods back in response. It's probably obvious to him that it's not every day she's in a boy's room. Despite being in the same room some nights before, it all still feels new.

She tries to remind herself that there's no reason to be self-conscious. Sirius is a friend. _Just_ a friend. This isn't like the numerous times she's been invited back to a boy's dorm after a date only for her to decline. There's no societal pressure for anything to happen here.

She swallows hard.

"So, what is it you invited me here for?" she asks, her voice rising an octave. Sirius seems to find this amusing.

If they weren't friends, she'd hex that grin right off his face.

"You know, something occurred to me last night."

"And what is that?"

His amused grin relaxes into a content smile. It puts her more at ease.

"I've told you so much more about my family than I've told anybody but James, but yours is still a mystery to me. I don't think that's very fair."

Guinevere raises an eyebrow.

"You invited me in here to ask me about my family?" she asks, not fully convinced of his motives.

He nods back at her with complete sincerity written on his face. If he has a hidden agenda, it doesn't show. It looks like he _did_ ask her to visit him just so he could talk to her about her family.

Maybe Sirius really is as mad as she once thought.

"There's not much to tell," she admits. "I think I come from a pretty normal family. At least, compared to yours."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she worries that she may have overstepped. Sirius's family is a sore spot, one that's no doubt been made even worse by what happened with Regulus. Before she can apologize, Sirius lets out a chuckle.

She inwardly sighs with relief.

"Everyone has their own "normal"," he says. "Mine is just as different from yours as yours is from James's, or James's is from Lily's, or Lily's is from Marlene's. I want to hear about your "normal". I'm sure it's fascinating."

There's a genuine intrigue in his words that tugs at Guinevere's heart in a way that she isn't completely used to.

"Mum and Dad married right out of university," she begins, fiddling with the ends of her robes. "I came along a few years later, and Dad died a few years after that."

Sirius frowns deeply.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

 _Again with the gut-wrenching sincerity that makes her heart pound._

"It's fine," she insists. "I mean, he's my dad and I'll always have love for him, but I never knew him, you know? Mum remarried when I was five, and I've always called _him_ Dad. So I never felt like I was missing much in the father figure department."

Her jaw twitches when she realizes that Sirius, even though he has a living father, most likely _was_ missing much.

"You're a muggleborn, right?" he asks, seemingly not noticing her discomfort.

"And proud, yes. Mum and Dad are both writers. Bloody good ones, too. They were confused as all hell when McGonagall came to the door with my letter. They're still confused about our world sometimes, but they're learning. Shoulda seen me trying to explain to 'em what the houses mean. They still pronounce Gryffindor wrong."

He chuckles and leans against the post of his bed. Guinevere had been so wrapped up in what she was saying that she didn't notice him scoot further down the bed until he was at the edge.

"Did you know anything about the houses before you came here? I haven't met one witch or wizard who didn't at least have a preference before they got sorted, but I suppose not all muggleborns know what a travesty it would be to be a Slytherin."

She reaches over to give him a shove.

"I only knew what McGonagall told me when she visited with my letter. She seemed to forget the part about Slytherins in our year being slimy gits. Gryffindor was the absolute _last_ house I expected to be in, but here I am. I still have no idea how it happened."

Sirius furrows his brow, staring down at her like she grew an extra head.

"You think you shouldn't be in Gryffindor?" he asks.

She gives a noncommittal shrug. It's something that haunts her every single year since her sorting, but she doesn't want him to know just _how_ much it does.

It's a difficult thing, being among the most courageous people she knows all day, and feeling like she doesn't fit into the same mold.

"I'm not really all that brave," she states. "I don't like fights or confrontations or trouble of any kind. I like to keep my head down and my nose clean. That sounds more like Hufflepuff material to me."

Sirius slides off his bed and sits down on the trunk, forcing Guinevere to scoot over to make room. Their sides are pressed together, their knees bumping into each other. Guinevere knows she could move down farther on the trunk if she wanted to, but their close proximity doesn't cause her any discomfort.

Like when they were dancing, it feels so natural that it scares her.

"Guinevere, you are ridiculously brave."

She scoffs, looking down at her feet. A finger taps her on the chin and gently forces her head back to meet Sirius's eyes.

"I'm not joking," he asserts. "You're not reckless, so what? That doesn't mean you aren't brave. If someone were to insult me straight to my face, I'd probably hex them out of their wits. That's just who I am. I'm reckless, and I know it. It's not something I'm ashamed of, but it doesn't make me courageous. But you? You meet insults with kindness. Those pureblood loving prats are awful to you, but you don't pay them any mind. _That_ takes real courage."

Guinevere gapes at him, not knowing quite what to say. But she doesn't _have_ to say anything; he's still going.

"Not to mention that you're always the first person to admit that you're wrong and apologize. I don't know how you do it. I _hate_ apologizing. It took me hours of working myself up to get me to apologize to you in the hospital wing that day. It takes a lot of courage to admit you're wrong."

She shakes her head, grabbing onto Sirius's hand and squeezing.

"Sirius…," she breathes.

"You stick your neck out for your friends," he continues. "You do it for James on the Quidditch pitch all the time. You even spied on my brother for me when you didn't even _like_ me, just because you thought I had the right to know. You don't let yourself get pushed around either. After 1st year, whenever I teased you, you always gave back as good as you got. Courage can be silent sometimes, Guin."

Staring into his eyes in that moment, Guinevere is reminded of James.

Well, not of _James_ specifically. Sirius looks nothing like James.

She's reminded of the spark in James's hazel eyes whenever he looked at Lily in those years he spent pining after her. He didn't look at her as if she hung the moon; he looked at her as if she _was_ the moon. To him, she was something ethereal and otherworldly, but far out of reach. The castle could have crumbled around them and he wouldn't have noticed as long as Lily was around him.

Replace hazel eyes with grey and that's the same type of spark that she sees when she gazes at Sirius.

How long did Guinevere spend envying that gaze that Lily received? How long did she spend wishing that someone would look at her with that amount of admiration? Now here it is, staring back at her in the eyes of Sirius Black.

They're caught in silence. The only sound in the room is the faint noise of the common room right before dinner time. Guinevere lets out a breathy laugh when Sirius rests a hand on her cheek.

She's not sure why she laughed. Maybe it was nerves, maybe she was just feeling ticklish, but it gets Sirius to let out a laugh of his own.

Then, his lips are on hers.


	14. Chapter 14

She's kissing Sirius Black.

She's _kissing_ Sirius Black.

She, Guinevere Driscoll, is kissing _Sirius Black_.

Guinevere is no novice when it comes to kissing. She's had her fair share of kisses throughout the years. There was that quick peck with Evander Wilson in her 3rd year, the sloppy excuse for a kiss with Uriah Smith in her 5th year, her first _real_ kiss with Benjy Fenwick that same year, a bit of a snogging session with him a few weeks later, and of course, there was that time a Ravenclaw keeper tried to practically swallow her face after a Quidditch match the year before.

No, she's not completely ignorant when it comes to kisses. But what she doesn't know is why this kiss feels so much better than any of the kisses she's had previously.

She doesn't feel "sparks", like she's heard claims of in Teen Witch Magazine. She doesn't see fireworks behind her eyelids or feel electricity go through her body. Of course, she didn't expect that. It always sounded too much like a sappy romance novel to her.

But kissing Sirius feels… _good_. It's warm and soft and not dry, but not grossly wet like some of her previous kisses. It makes her stomach flip over in a way that causes her some discomfort, but also gives her a rush. She decides that she likes it.

She doesn't want it to end.

But, of course, it does. Far too soon, in Guinevere's opinion.

Sirius pulls back from her lips slowly. As soon she feels her lips lose contact with his, her eyes fly open. Sirius's face is a few centimeters from hers, his eyes still closed, his mouth slightly agape.

Sirius Black kissed her.

And she kissed him back.

The reality of the situation hits Guinevere in waves. While the kiss was happening, she was happy. When it ended, she was sad. Now that she knows she'll have to deal with the aftermath, she's panicked. Not to mention confused.

Very, _very_ confused.

When Sirius finally opens his eyes, Guinevere can't tear her gaze away. No words are spoken between them in those quiet moments after their kiss, and Guinevere is left to her frenzied thoughts.

 _Sirius Black kissed me._

 _I kissed him back._

 _I kissed Sirius Black and I enjoyed it._

Sirius lightly wipes at his lips, his fingers lingering for a few moments longer than necessary. Her eyes flit back down to his lips. She wonders if he can still feel her like she can still feel him.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds," he breathes. "I just needed to know."

"Know what?"

His lips twitch up into a grin.

"If that would feel as good as I thought it would."

Guinevere feels her cheeks heat up. She has no idea how Sirius isn't as flustered and lost for words as she is. How does he still somehow manage to be _charming_ after that kiss?

"And did it?"

She meant the words to come out sounding flirtatious, or husky, or just in some way _appealing_ like how Sirius manages to sound. Like the post-kiss pillow talk she hears in movies.

But her words come out as more of a squeak than anything.

Sirius must not care, because he lets out a breathy laugh and nods.

"It felt like everything I thought it would and better," he declares.

The way he says it makes Guinevere crack a smile. He sounds so enthusiastic, like a little kid who got everything he wanted for Christmas. His words weren't said to be vapid and flirtatious. He really enjoyed kissing her.

Like she enjoyed kissing him.

"So…," she drawls out. "Does this mean you… like me…?"

The very thought of Sirius Black having romantic feelings for _her_ is enough to tip her entire world on its axis. Not long ago, she thought he hated her. Even the friendship they managed to cultivate was a shock to her. But he wouldn't have kissed her if he didn't have at least _some_ sort of romantic feelings for her, right?

Unless this is all some sick joke of his and she's getting played for a fool.

"You couldn't tell?" he teases.

His flippant attitude nags at Guinevere like it never has before. Her fear that this could all be a cruel prank of his - the friendship, the talks, the late night dancing, _the kiss_ \- is building up in her chest.

"Answer the question, Sirius."

His smile fades.

"I thought me kissing you would have made the answer obvious."

Guinevere reluctantly accepts that this is the most she'll get out of him. She should have known better than to believe she could get Sirius Black to readily divulge something so deeply personal, even if it does involve her.

She'll just have to take that as a 'yes' for now.

"What about you?" he asks.

She knows what he's asking, but she wants to delay this discussion as much as possible. It's impossible to formulate an answer to that question when she's still reeling from that kiss.

"What _about_ me?" she responds, feigning innocence.

Sirius gives her a look that tells her how much of an awful liar she really is.

"You kissed me back," he states. "Does that mean _you_ like _me_?"

 _Merlin, she feels like she's back in primary school._

Her answer should be so simple; yes or no. Either she likes him in a not-so-platonic way or she doesn't. But it doesn't _feel_ that simple to her.

So, she tries to deflect again.

"Is this your way of asking me out?"

Sirius grins and gives a noncommittal shrug.

"Maybe," he teases. "It depends; if I were to ask you out, what would your answer be?"

Guinevere _has_ no answer.

She's sure that if she were to try and give him one, she would only be able to stutter out some incomprehensible gibberish and make herself seem like a fool. So, instead of even trying, she looks down at her lap and begins picking each individual cat hair off her robe and counting them as they fall.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…

"Guin?"

She snaps out of her trance and looks at him, taking in the concerned furrow of his brow. She must not have realized how long she was anxiously picking at her robes.

She still has no answer to give him, and now she's starting to feel that tell-tale churning in her stomach that can only mean an anxiety attack is on the horizon.

 _Please, not here. Not now._

"Can I think about this a little while longer?"

The words come out of her mouth without any thought besides wanting to leave.

She doesn't _want_ to "think about it". That will only result in more questions and more anxiety and more feelings that she _doesn't want_. What she really wants is to hide under a rock and pretend none of this ever happened so she doesn't have to sort out what these feelings are. Is that too much to ask?

Sirius purses his lips, and Guinevere can tell he isn't thrilled by the idea. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at him. His patience is that of a toddler.

"Christmas break is coming up soon," he points out. "We won't be seeing each other for over a month."

Guinevere can feel the words coming out of her, yet she still can't believe what she hears herself say.

"I'll give you an answer before we leave for the break. Now let's get to dinner before someone comes looking for us, okay?"

The smile Sirius gives her as he follows her out of the room is so unrestrained in its glee that Guinevere feels her heart ache.

She's dug herself into a deep hole here and she doesn't know how to even begin to get herself back out.

* * *

Guinevere spends the last few days of classes dodging Sirius as every corner, making sure Lily is okay, and trying to look at her situation with as much logic and as little emotion as possible.

She's started a habit of compiling a mental list of the pros and cons of accepting Sirius's offer to go out on a date. Every second she has to herself, the list grows, shrinks, and then grows again.

 _Pros: He's attractive, he's funny, I enjoy his company (most days), he has good taste in music, and if it all went south, I could have a clean break after we graduate._

 _Cons: We're very different people, we have completely different backgrounds, he'd probably get bored easily, his family would hate him even more, and my blood status may make him a target for the same people that target me._

So far, the cons are more compelling than the pros.

Now it's the last day, Guinevere has a train to catch in a hours time, and she still hasn't given Sirius an answer.

She pushes Stevie Wonder off her trunk so she can jam some of her polaroid pictures into it, all of which were taken with her own camera. They all tell a story.

Guinevere and Marlene cuddled up on the couch in the common room on a cold day.

Guinevere and Lily hugging each other so tight that no one can tell where one girls ends and the other begins.

James and Lily holding hands across the table and looking at each other as if they're the only two people in the castle.

Sirius covering his eyes from the camera with a playful grin.

She slams her trunk shut.

Her answer has to be no. There's no other way. Sirius is too impulsive for his own good; has no idea what he'd be getting into by dating a muggleborn witch. They're on the brink of war and Guinevere isn't going to be responsible for painting a target on anyone's back.

 _This is the most responsible decision, really._

"Guin?"

She turns on her heels to find her dorm mates all gathered around her in a semi-circle, their expressions akin to people approaching a wild animal. It makes her feel as though she's about to get an intervention.

"What is it?" she asks, looking around at them.

Lily motions for her to sit down on her bed. Guinevere complies despite her confusion. Her friends all sit across from her on the edge of Lily's bed, wearing matching concerned expressions. Even Dorcas looks concerned.

It takes _a lot_ to make Dorcas concerned.

"Guin, we're worried about you," Lily blurts out.

"You've barely talked for days," Marlene adds.

"You don't even go to meals with us anymore," Alice points out.

"And you're just being plain weird," Dorcas claims.

Guinevere holds her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, I get it!" she exclaims. "I've been acting weird lately. I'm sorry if I've worried any of you. Now can we please discuss this later? Like, on the train? I've got to finish packing."

She makes a move to stand up and feign packing, but Lily uses her wand to lift the trunk out of her reach and settle it down across the room. Guinevere huffs her annoyance.

"Lily, seriously, it's no—,"

Lily holds up a warning finger.

"Guinevere Esther Driscoll, if you say "no big deal", I'm going to petrify you and leave you to miss the train."

Guinevere shrinks back in her seat. The dangerous glint in her emerald eyes are enough proof that this is no idle threat.

Only when she's sure that Guinevere will comply does Lily calm down. The other girls are looking at the redhead expectantly, waiting for her to speak. Guinevere should have guessed that this was Lily's idea. She's such a mother hen.

Usually Guinevere appreciates it, but not in this moment.

"What is it that's been bothering you these past few days, Guin?" Lily asks. "You know that whatever it is, we can work it out together. We just want to know that you're okay."

The other girls all lean forward on the bed, patiently awaiting Guinevere's answer. She just wants to get through this as soon as possible so she can be on her way to the Hogsmeade station and far away from all these problems caused by _one damn kiss_.

 _Why not just tell them?_ she thinks. _I've already made my mind up about my answer. It's not like they can stop me._

"Sirius Black asked me out," she responds flatly.

The effect her words have on the group of girls is instantaneous. Alice lets out high-pitched squeal and smacks Marlene and Dorcas on their arms.

"I told you something happened between them this week!" she exclaims. "I knew it! I _knew it_!"

Lily groans and slips her hand into her pocket, pulling out a few sickles and shoving them into Alice's hands. Marlene and Dorcas follow suit, though Dorcas seems very reluctant to let go of her hard earned money.

"I thought it would at _least_ take until April!" Lily huffs.

"I still can't believe I lost the bet a _year_ ago," Marlene groans.

"Well _I_ still think my theory about them meeting up one night years from now and having a drunken shag is—,"

"DORCAS!" Guinevere shrieks.

Her friends stop squabbling amongst themselves and finally turn to look at her. They at least have the decency to look ashamed about their little "bet". And Marlene lost a year ago? Just how long has this been going on?

This is like James and Lily all over again, but this time Guinevere isn't in on the fun.

"Well you all lose, because I'm telling him no," she snaps.

Their faces all fall. Guinevere can't imagine why. Did they _actually_ think she and Sirius would make a good couple? They're so different, not just personality wise, but in their position in wizarding society.

 _No, it would never work out._

Alice glumly takes her newly earned sickles out of her pocket and starts to redistribute them, much to the disappointment of Marlene and Lily. But Dorcas pushes her hand away.

"Why are you telling him no?"

The painstakingly compiled list of cons comes back into her mind.

"We're too different to be compatible. We come from completely different backgrounds and he has no idea what he'd be getting into by dating a muggleborn during—,"

"Bullshit," Dorcas interrupts.

Guinevere bristles.

" _What_?"

" _Bullshit_ ," she repeats. "I know you don't give a shit about any of that pureblood nonsense you're spouting off. That's just an excuse. A pretty flimsy one at that. You don't want to date Sirius because you're scared."

It would have hurt less if Dorcas had just slapped her in the face.

"I'm not scared," Guinevere counters.

Dorcas scoffs.

"Of course you're scared. It's only natural. There's a war coming. You're scared, Sirius is scared, we're _all_ scared. Hell, even _I'm_ scared."

"I'm terrified," Alice chimes in. A quick glare from Dorcas is enough to effectively silence her.

Guinevere refuses to listen to Dorcas's words. She doesn't want to hear a second opinion, because she knows if she does, she'll start questioning her decision even more.

As if she wasn't confused enough to begin with.

"And what does me being afraid of the war have to do with not wanting to date Sirius?" she snaps.

"Because you're afraid of falling in love during a war," Dorcas responds. "There's more to lose that way. If you don't give it a go in the first place, you don't have to worry about that. But Guin, you can't just put your entire life on hold because you're scared of the future. If that were an option, we'd all just have to drop everything and live in a cave together because that's the only way to completely shield yourself from all harm."

Guinevere can practically _feel_ that methodically organized pros and cons list crumbling right in front of her. She desperately tries to bring to mind the reasons she's been clinging onto as to why she can't date Sirius.

"Dating me could put him in harm's way," she insists, sounding like she's reading off a script. "Even associating with a muggleborn could—,"

"Dammit, Guin, stop it with that bullshit!" Dorcas shouts. "Quit acting like is a business transaction and not your goddamn _life_ we're talking about here! You keep making these points about you two being from different blood statuses, but during this entire conversation, have you even _once_ said how you feel about him? Like, as a person?"

Guinevere mentally sorts through her list of excuses, trying to pick out _one_ reason she had for turning Sirius down that had anything to do with something more personal than his pureblood status.

She's drawing a blank.

Dorcas sighs and rubs at her temples, finally coming down from her emotional high. It's a strange sensation, being yelled at by Dorcas. Guinevere rarely ever sees her so passionate about something. Somehow, it feels worse than being yelled at by Lily.

Dorcas always delivers the hard truths that no one wants to hear.

"Look," she says. "I'm not telling you what your answer should be. I won't stop you if after all this, you still want to tell him that you can't go out with him. It's _your_ life, Guin. You just… I think you forget that sometimes."

 _I think you forget that sometimes._

 _I think you forget that sometimes._

The words ring in Guinevere's head over and over again.

Wherever in her brain that list was being stored, it's gone. Probably to make room for that phrase.

 _I think you forget that sometimes._

She vaguely notices Lily standing up off the bed and kneeling in front of her to catch her eyes.

"We'll be waiting in the common room for you whenever you're ready to leave. Take all the time you need, okay?"

She places a hand on Guinevere's shoulder, letting it linger for a few more seconds than necessary before ushering the rest of the girls out of the room.

 _I think you forget that sometimes._

Is she really making this decision based on what's good for her? Or even what's good for Sirius?

Or is she doing it based on fear like Dorcas said?

She rests her head in her hands, taking in a sharp breath.

 _Think of the pros and cons list you were making, Guinevere,_ she tells herself. _Think about this from a pragmatic standpoint._

 _Pros: He's attractive, he's funny, I enjoy his company (more often than not these days), he has great taste in music, he makes me laugh, he's clever, he's a hard worker, he makes me not take myself so seriously, and his kiss makes my heart pound._

 _Cons: I'm a bloody coward._

Guinevere has made up her mind. And she's sticking to it this time.

Getting up from her bed, she storms out of the room and makes her way to the boys' dormitory. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears the entire way.

The door is open, allowing her to stride right in. The Marauders are all packing, of course, right at the last minute. James is the first to look up at the sound of Guinevere entering, followed by Remus, Sirius, and Peter. None of them are giving Sirius a knowing look, meaning he must not have told them.

"Guin?" James asks. "What is it that you—,"

She bypasses him and lunges at Sirius.

The kiss she gives him is hard and uncoordinated, probably not the most enjoyable one he's ever had. Her nose bumps his so hard on the initial collision that she fears she might give him a nose bleed. Their teeth run into each other, making an audible clacking noise. Even though Guinevere has no experience in that area, she can't imagine that anyone finds it particularly arousing.

When Sirius wraps his arms around her waist and steadies them both, it's far better. She gets the same warm feeling she got from their previous kiss, but this time it spreads all throughout her body. From her lips to her stomach and down into her toes, she feels a comforting warmth.

She can hear the hoops and hollers of Sirius's friends, but she pays them no mind.

When she pulls her lips away from his this time, she feels no confusion. Only pure, unadulterated joy.

How did she ever consider saying no to _this_? Not just the kisses, though those are wonderful. But how did she almost turn away from this connection the two have? How did she ever trick herself into thinking there was nothing there? Even when she had a proper kiss with Benjy Fenwick that she really _did_ enjoy, she didn't leave with this amount of joy in her heart.

There's something between her and Sirius. It may not be love like James and Lily have, but it's _something_. And she doesn't want to leave that unexplored just because she's scared.

Sirius gives her a smile that's too big for his face and rests his forehead against hers, seemingly out of breath. Pride swells up in her chest.

 _She_ did that to him.

"So, I take it this means yes?" he asks.

Guinevere grins and gives him a quick peck on the lips, effectively answering his question.

"Sometimes, Sirius, courage is silent."

* * *

 **A/N: I know that seems like it could be a wrap up of the story, but rest assured, it isn't! I still have a lot more left in me! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

_Eight months later…_

The wedding of James Potter and Lily Evans takes place on a warm August morning. Their Hogwarts robes have barely been shed, the boxes in their new home not yet unpacked. The newlyweds are just barely eighteen, and some would say that they're too young to be making such a big decision.

A quick hex from Lily Potter née Evans is usually enough to make the naysayers silent.

It's a small, quiet ceremony; neither bride nor groom wanted to make it a big fuss over it in the middle of a war. Lily wears a simple white dress that she got for a discount from a local seamstress, while James opts for a white button up and a bow-tie.

Muggle clothing. Another thing most wizards would disagree with.

They host it in the rolling hills by Lily's childhood home, a homage to her parents who unfortunately died in a car crash a few months earlier. Luckily, James's parents jumped at the opportunity to pay for the entire wedding. His father even volunteered to walk her down the aisle.

Of course, Sirius acts as James's best man and Guinevere as Lily's maid of honor. Sirius wears a white button up and a bow-tie, similar to James, but with suspenders that he just _couldn't_ resist buying the week before. Guinevere wears a simple lilac sundress that she had to dig around in her closet to find. The wedding has no dress code.

Even for a muggle wedding, that's unusual.

The only man that James and Lily trust to officiate their wedding is their now-ex-Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Of course, the old man is prepared, and the entire ceremony goes over without a hitch — the wards that Dumbledore put up around them make sure of that. Lily and James have no vows of their own written down, instead choosing just to do the standard vows that are parroted at most weddings.

The entire wedding seems haphazard and rushed, but James and Lily somehow make it charming. James fumbles and drops the ring, causing the small audience to laugh while he digs through the grass to find it. Lily beams at him with barely-there tears in her eyes as he gets it together and slips the ring on her finger. The glow on their faces while they stare into each other's eyes and say "I do" is enough to reduce both Fleamont and Euphemia Potter to tears and make everybody else in attendance smile.

Guinevere has never seen so much love in one place.

The turntable that Sirius brought is sitting on a table under the canopy, playing _Somebody To Love_ by Queen. A quick charm on the device makes it resound through the venue as if an actual band were playing. Lily and James are slow dancing right under the center of the canopy, their foreheads resting together like they're the only two people there. It makes Guinevere's heart burst with joy.

She doesn't think she's ever seen her best friend this happy in all the years they've known each other.

While the rest of the guests dance and mingle, Guinevere stays firmly stationed at the refreshment table. It isn't much, but it's certainly filling. And fattening.

As she works on a piece of treacle tart, she can practically hear her mother scolding her for eating something that will go right to her already big thighs.

She takes another large bite.

A teary eyed Euphemia Potter approaches her and places a hand on her shoulder

"Guinevere, love, have you ever seen something so beautiful?" she asks, the sob still in her voice.

Guinevere smiles warmly and places her own hand atop the older woman's. When Sirius decided it was time to introduce Guinevere to his "parents", it was the Potters he presented her to. The elderly couple have been nothing but kind to her since.

"Never," she admits. "They both look so happy, Mrs. Potter. I didn't think that amount of happiness was possible."

Euphemia squeezes her shoulder with a watery smile.

"Dear, I've told you over and over again, just call me Euphemia. You're as much a part of the family as Sirius is."

As if he was summoned by the sound of his name, Guinevere feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around her waist and hug her from the back.

 _Speak of the devil and he shall appear._

She rolls her eyes and gives Euphemia a good natured smile.

"Excuse me, Euphemia, but I seem to have a child attached to my hip," she apologizes.

Even though she can't see Sirius's face, she's sure that he's pouting.

"You see what I have to put up with, Mum?" he asks Euphemia, coming up to Guinevere's side. "She's so mean to me."

Guinevere gives him a light smack to the chest, leaning into his side. He wraps one arm around her to pull her closer against him. She stiffens at first, hyperaware of Euphemia's presence, but she soon relaxes in his hold. It took her weeks of visits to the Potter residence before she could get used to how physically affectionate Sirius can get with her around the people that he views as his parents.

She just prays that he won't do it in front of _her_ parents when he meets them eventually.

"You need someone who can keep you in line, Sirius Black," Euphemia teases. "Guinevere is so good at that, we may just have to start planning _your_ wedding here soon!"

Guinevere and Sirius both blush and smile uncomfortably at the suggestion. During a war, everybody marries quickly. The promise of a tomorrow is never guaranteed. But Guinevere has made it clear to everyone who pesters her about it that she's not rushing into marriage, especially not when her relationship is still so new.

"We've only been dating for eight months, Euphemia," Guinevere laughs. "Give me a bit more time to teach him how to clean the shower without magic before we start thinking about marriage."

Euphemia raises an eyebrow at Sirius, who just smiles guiltily.

"I see no reason _not_ to use magic," he admits. "The muggle way is so much harder."

Guinevere gives him a poke to the side.

"How in the world would you survive if you didn't have your wand, Sirius?"

He grins and leans in to kiss her on the crown of her head.

"I'd just steal yours," he jokes.

Guinevere laughs. She'd like to see him try.

Sirius slips his hand down to grasp hers. She squeezes back tightly.

"Excuse me, Mum, but I believe this is the part of the evening where I drag my very lovely and _very_ uncoordinated girlfriend off to the dance floor."

The "dance floor" being a large patch of grass under the canopy.

Guinevere mumbles a few choice words at Sirius as he leads her away from the food, but he only smirks in response. They both know that if Guinevere truly didn't want to dance, she would have already ripped her hand away from him by now. But Guinevere has never let Sirius win that easily.

 _Somebody To Love_ has already ended and someone must have taken it upon themselves to exchange the Queen record with another one from the small portion of Sirius's collection that he brought. Now _Dancing Queen_ is playing.

Guinevere had no idea that Sirius owned any ABBA records, but she's sure now that she'll be teasing him about it for the rest of her life.

Without any prompting, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him as close as she possibly can while keeping it appropriate. He wraps his arms around her waist and sways with her, back and forth.

She knows that this is James and Lily's special day and her focus should be on them, but when she dances with Sirius, everything else around her is background noise. They don't get many opportunities to dance like this, but when they do, she always feels like it's that one night in his dormitory all over again.

He dips her dramatically and throws in a wink while she's dangling in his arms. She throws her head back in laughter.

Eight months into their relationship and he still flirts with her as if he was trying to win her over. Guinevere revels in it. She supposes that this is the honeymoon phase that everyone talks about, but she doesn't care.

The two dance until the sun starts to set and Lily and James decide it's time for everyone to go home. In these days, when being attacked even in broad daylight is a real possibility, no one wants to risk walking home at night. The newlyweds give everyone their thanks and hurried goodbyes. Sirius and Guinevere hug their best friends and then apparate to a park nearby their flat.

It was Guinevere's idea to move in together in Muggle London. Not only is it cost effective, but it's far safer than living alone. And the anti-apparition charm on the place makes it harder to break into.

Sirius was mostly just excited to be sharing a bedroom with his girlfriend.

As soon as they stumble through the door, Guinevere tosses her uncomfortable flats to the side and throws herself onto the couch in their still-bare living room. The lack of sleep and general excitement of the day has finally caught up with her. In this moment, the couch feels just as good as any mattress.

She hears Sirius sit down on the rocking chair beside her.

"You gonna fall asleep on me?" he prods. "The sun hasn't even fully set."

She groans into the pillow that her face is buried in.

"I had to get up at 7am this morning," she laments, her voice slightly muffled.

The rocking chair creaks in protest when Sirius gets up from it, his heavy footsteps leading into the connecting kitchen.

 _Well, if one could even call what we have a kitchen,_ she thinks.

"Remember when you used to wake up at an ungodly hour every morning?" he jokes. "Whatever happened to that Gwen-Of-Air?"

Guinevere sits up and flings the pillow she was laying on as hard as she dares, hitting the freezer door in the process. Sirius lets out a bark like laugh and tosses it back at her, albeit considerably softer.

He used that nickname, he had it coming.

"She died a violent death when we started to attend those bloody Order meetings at _bloody 3am_ ," she moans.

Sirius shoots her an apologetic glance as he digs a butterbeer out of the fridge. Both of their sleep schedules have suffered dramatically because of their involvement in the Order of the Phoenix. Because the Death Eaters never give it a rest, neither can they. It can feel to Guinevere at times that the only "quality time" she gets with Sirius is when they glance at each other across the table at wherever the Order is meeting that week,

Sometimes, she _really_ regrets the day she agreed to join the organization…

* * *

 _It was the 2nd of July when Guinevere received an owl from her former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, requesting her presence in his office at Hogwarts. The letter was short and simple, telling her that he had something he wished to discuss with her and that his fireplace was connected to the Floo Network._

 _She stared at the letter for a long time, reading and re-reading it over and over again. In all her years at Hogwarts, she and Dumbledore had enough encounters for her to count on a single hand. She never got in trouble or did anything that would require a talking to by her headmaster. What he could want, she had no idea._

 _Maybe he was going to give her advice about what to do now that she was out of school and left to fend for herself in the magical community, like McGonagall tried to do before they graduated? Because she sure felt lost now that she no longer had Hogwarts to call a home. Was she supposed to move into a wizarding community, or a muggle one? Would she be better at a career as a healer, or as a normal muggle nurse?_

 _How was she supposed to balance two worlds?_

 _When she flooed to Dumbledore's office and found him sitting at his desk with that usual twinkle in his eyes, she got a sinking feeling that she was nowhere close to figuring out why he called her in to meet with him._

 _"Good afternoon, Professor," she greeted him with stiff politeness._

 _He smiled at her in a disarming manner and motioned for her to sit down across from him._

 _"Please, Miss Driscoll, you've already graduated. I'm no longer your headmaster. Just call me Albus. Or simply Dumbledore, if that's what makes you most comfortable."_

 _She nodded vigorously. He could have told her to run through the corridors stark naked and she would have agreed. Something about Albus Dumbledore was awe inspiring to her. He always seemed to know everything that eluded the rest of the wizarding world._

 _"Okay, Prof— I mean, okay, Albus."_

 _She swore she felt physical pain trying to force his first name out of her mouth. Even with his permission, it felt disrespectful._

 _He smiled at her again and picked up a crystal dish filled with chocolate buttons, offering it to her._

 _"Chocolate?"_

 _She shook her head and politely pushed the dish away. Her stomach was too knotted up for her to even consider sweets._

 _"Sir— I mean,_ Albus _," she corrected herself. "May I ask why you summoned me here? I have to admit I have no idea what this could even remotely be about…"_

 _Dumbledore paused and popped a few chocolate buttons into his mouth. Guinevere let her eyes flit around the office uncomfortably while she waited for him to swallow the chocolate. She immediately stopped when she saw a portrait staring right back at her._

 _"Your friend Miss Evans told me that you're a very courageous girl," he said at last._

 _She was about to protest and tell him that no, she wasn't_ that _courageous when he lowered his head slightly and looked at her over his half-moon spectacles._

 _"She also told me that you have a knack for poking your nose around in places where you shouldn't."_

 _She felt a small sting of betrayal. Lily said those words? To Dumbledore of all people?_

 _Guinevere was well aware of her flaws, but still… that hurt._

 _Dumbledore gave her a smile and reached his hand out to rest it on top of her own._

 _"That was not said in a malicious way, Miss Driscoll," he reassured her. "Either from me_ or _Miss Evans. It's a trait that can be very useful indeed. Dare I say, no great witch or wizard has ever made history by minding their own business."_

 _He winked at her in a way that made her sure that he knew all the things she got up to in her 7th year at Hogwarts. Of course, she knew that she never ran into any teachers while she was out of bed and spying on Regulus Black, but that knowing twinkle…_

 _It made her question whether or not Dumbledore really does have eyes everywhere._

 _"What about it, sir?" she asked, hoping the question didn't sound rude._

 _He pointedly ignored the fact that she was once again calling him "sir" as he continued._

 _"Miss Driscoll, I assume I don't have to inform you that Voldemort's forces are growing larger by the day."_

 _A lump formed in her throat at the mere mention of Lord Voldemort. She had just left Hogwarts a month before and yet she could already name ten people she graduated with who met a violent end at the hands of Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters._

 _"Yes, I know," she said in a strangled voice._

 _Dumbledore's eyes shone with sympathy. Guinevere wished she didn't need it._

 _"And am I also correct in assuming you know a war has begun?"_

 _She nodded slowly, suspicious of his line of questioning._

 _"Yes, I'm very much aware."_

 _Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat wearily, looking every bit his age in that moment. Guinevere inspected his face, wondering if she could count the numerous wrinkles. There were wrinkles lining his forehead, wrinkles in the outer corners of his eyes, wrinkles in his cheeks, wrinkles lining the corners of his mouth…_

 _"If you know the severity of the situation, then I'm sure you knew this day would come," he said gravely._

 _Panic seized Guinevere's heart as she wondered if this was Dumbledore's cryptic way of telling her that someone she loved had been found dead. So far, she had been lucky enough to not lose anyone._

 _She shouldn't have left her parents alone that day, she knows it._

 _"What day?" she whispered, desperately trying to hold herself together._

 _He leaned back in his seat, pulling open one of the drawers of his desk. Each second that crawled by as he fished through the drawer, the more anxiety built up in Guinevere's chest. It was climbing up her ribs and squeezing her lungs, leaving her unable to breathe._

 _After ten harrowing seconds in which Dumbledore rifled through his desk drawer, he pulled out a small slip of folded paper and handed it to Guinevere. She took it with shaking hands and pulled it open._

Arabella Figg

No. 2 Wisteria Walk

Little Whinging, Surrey

 _An address. Not a death announcement or someone's last will and testament, but a simple address._

 _Guinevere finally allowed herself to breathe._

 _"Sir… what…?"_

 _"The day has come for you to choose, Miss Driscoll," Dumbledore replied. "To be a passive observer, or an active participant."_

 _She knew what he was asking her; did she want to fight in this war, or try to ignore it like a blissful little fool?_

 _Being a passive observer would have been easier, no doubt. That she was sure of. It was how she always dealt with hard times, by pressing on as if nothing had ever occurred. Though her safety was in question now, being a muggleborn, it would be even more dangerous to actively defy Voldemort._

 _How could she fight Death Eaters if she couldn't even punch someone without crying?_

 _"Sir… I… I don't…"_

 _"Miss Evans and Mr. Potter have already agreed to attend our first meeting," he interjected. "As well as Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew, Miss McKinnon, Miss Meadowes, Miss MacDougal, and Mr. Black."_

 _A quick flash of anger shot through her. If all her friends and her boyfriend had already been through the same meeting, why did they not tell her? Why did they let her be put on the spot like this?_

 _"I asked them all not to inform you of our meetings," Dumbledore answered, as if sensing her thoughts. "Mr. Black and Miss Evans in particular found it difficult to stay silent on the matter. You must understand these are not things we want to be overheard in public. Or in private. You never know where a wandering ear may be, Miss Driscoll."_

 _Was that a wizard phrase she had just never heard, or was that just Dumbledore being himself?_

 _"I don't expect an answer from you right at this moment, of course. I only ask that you memorize that slip of paper I handed to you and send me a simple yes or no response by Saturday evening. We will be meeting that Sunday night. No apparition, no floo. Broomsticks are acceptable if used with a cloaking device, but muggle modes of transportation would be best. Have I explained everything clearly, Miss Driscoll?"_

 _She nodded, her eyes wide as she took it all in._

 _Dumbledore once again settled into an easy smile and patted her on the wrist like she was his granddaughter._

 _"Splendid. I hope to see you again soon. And do take some chocolate buttons for the road. They lift the spirits immensely!"_

 _With a handful of chocolate buttons in her pocket, she flooed back home and thought long and hard._

 _She didn't want to fight in this war. Nobody wanted to fight in the war, but it went beyond just want for Guinevere. She didn't feel capable of fighting in the war. She wasn't a skilled fighter or spy, she knew minimal hexes, and she winced at the thought of battle._

 _Her mind sorted through an endless list of possibilities of what could go wrong._

 _Not just for her, but for Lily. And James. And Remus. And Marlene. And Dorcas. And Peter. And Alice. And Sirius._

 _Oh Merlin, her friends. They were as much her family now as much as her actual flesh and blood. They were the most precious things in her life, and they were laying their lives down for this resistance that has no guarantee of succeeding. All of this because of their bloody Gryffindor bravery._

 _If she wasn't going to join for herself, she had to join for her friends. To keep them safe._

 _After an entire day of intense deliberation and little rest, Guinevere tied a note to Rhea's leg and sent her off to Dumbledore. The note was a small section of paper torn off a page with one short word written in the center in blue ink._

'Yes'.

* * *

"Guin?"

Guinevere's eyes fly open, settling on Sirius's form hovering above her. She's curled up on the couch in the fetal position, hugging a pillow like a teddy bear.

She must have fallen asleep.

"What is it?" she murmurs, rubbing at her eyes.

Sirius sits down on the other side of the couch, reaching over to rub her back. She leans into his touch.

"Sorry, love, but we've got to head out. Dumbledore just sent us a message through floo. Emergency meeting."

Guinevere grunts in protest and holds the pillow tighter.

She'll never regret choosing to protect her friends, but Merlin does she miss her sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys don't mind the time jump! Rest assured, there will be some flashbacks scattered about. Plus Guinevere and Sirius are only eight months into their relationship, so a lot of the development and the conflicts that happen in a relationship hasn't happened with them yet. They're close to coming out of the "we just started dating" honeymoon phase, which will hopefully be more fun to read than the honeymoon phase itself.**

 **I hope you enjoy and review! :)**


	16. Chapter 16

The meeting tonight is at Alastor Moody's home, much to Guinevere's dismay. Of course, his house is apparition proof, disconnected from the Floo Network, and out in the middle of nowhere; the war has only heightened the Auror's already extreme paranoia.

If Dumbledore would let her, Guinevere would offer up her own flat as a meeting place; just so she wouldn't have to get up off her couch.

Sirius and Guinevere apparate as far as they possibly can before walking the rest of the way. It's a good few blocks and both are dead on their feet by the time they arrive. Guinevere can feel the sores forming on her heels, not only from the walk, but also from spending most of the day in those ill-fitting flats.

Before they can even walk through the door, they're accosted by Moody holding his wand up to their throats and asking them their failsafe questions— the deeply personal information they willingly handed over to the Order so they would be able to make sure it was indeed them and not a Death Eater using a Polyjuice Potion.

"What is the last thing your brother ever said to you?" Moody asks Sirius gruffly.

Every time the question is asked, Guinevere grimaces. Nearly a year later and Regulus still hasn't had any contact with Sirius. She just hopes that Sirius will never have to encounter his brother on a mission, fighting on the opposing side.

"To take care of myself," Sirius replies without difficulty. He's no doubt used to saying the words by now.

Satisfied with Sirius's answer, Moody turns his wand from Sirius and points it at Guinevere.

They've done this dozens of times, but every single time Guinevere gets a wand shoved in her face, Sirius scoots just a little closer to her.

"What is the only thing your biological father left you?"

"My name."

Moody lowers his wand away from her neck, but doesn't lower it completely. It's a habit of his that unnerves her. She knows that he's a highly skilled Auror, but he's so paranoid that she fears he'll blast a hole in her stomach if she so much as breathes without his say so.

"Get inside," he mutters to them. "You've already been standing out here for too long."

He turns around and marches back inside without another word to them. Sirius tilts his head in Guinevere's direction to whisper to her as they follow behind.

"Constant vigilance!"

Guinevere covers her mouth to stifle her giggles. His impression is pretty spot on.

They walk through the sitting room, which Guinevere finds astoundingly normal for a man like Alastor Moody. There's no heads hung on the wall or eyeballs in a glass case or fishing wire lining the floor. The first time she entered the house a few weeks prior, she tip-toed down the entire length of the hallway out of fear of setting off some kind of hidden trap.

Moody's house just looks like the place where an average grandfather of three would reside.

He leads them into the kitchen, where a small round table sits.

Guinevere can still hear James, Remus, and Peter teasing her about how Sirius is her Sir Lancelot and the rest of them are Knights of The Round Table In Moody's Kitchen.

She pulls up a seat next to Remus, who's nursing a mug of coffee. Knowing him, she doubts it's his first of the night.

In the general excitement of the wedding, Guinevere didn't pay close enough attention to Remus's appearance. Now that she's right beside him, she can see clearly how haggard he is. He's paler than usual, which only highlights the bags under his eyes. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead.

No wonder he's drinking coffee at this hour.

She bumps his shoulder lightly.

"That time of the month, eh?" she jokes.

Despite his grim appearance, Remus manages to give her an amused smile.

"Tomorrow night."

Guinevere gives him a look of sympathy. The day before and the day after are always the worst for him.

Even with how well the Marauders hid the secret of Remus's lycanthropy, Guinevere found out towards the end of their 7th year due to a little slip up of James and Sirius's.

* * *

 _Guinevere was practically vibrating with excitement. She had just finished her N.E.W.T. in Potions, which was even more difficult than she had originally anticipated. They had to complete three very advanced potions individually. Being ripped away from her potions partner - and boyfriend - for the exam felt like losing a limb, but she still somehow managed._

 _Later that day, as she was walking back from the girl's lavatory, Professor Slughorn intercepted her and pulled her aside, confessing that he began grading her work first because he knew he would be impressed - and he wasn't disappointed. He hinted at her seeing an "O" in her future._

 _Just what she would need to become a healer._

 _She didn't think twice before running off to tell Sirius. Not because he was her boyfriend; because he was her potions partner. Even with her knack for the subject, he helped her with his own brand of cleverness that she carried with her into the exam._

 _Guinevere knew he would be so proud._

 _She dashed up to Gryffindor Tower, carried by sheer enthusiasm. Even though she and Sirius had only been dating for six months, she was no stranger to his dormitory by now. Often times, she just walked in without warning. It was a bad habit, but one she had trouble shedding._

 _James still refused to mention the time she walked in while he was changing._

 _This time was no different. She trudged up the stairs towards Sirius's dormitory, grinning from ear to ear. The closer she got, the clearer the voices inside became._

 _"I'm telling you, Prongs is bigger than Padfoot."_

 _"It depends on your definition of_ big _, Wormy. Prongs is taller, but Padfoot has the weight advantage."_

 _"Okay, you've got a point there, Moony. But Prongs could do some serious damage with those antlers."_

 _Guinevere didn't pay much attention to their words. She rarely did when the Marauders were speaking amongst themselves. For all she or anyone else knew, they could have been speaking a different language, always absorbed in their own little world in which they were the only four occupants._

 _She rushed into the room with no warning, out of breath from her trek up the stairs._

 _"Sirius! Sirius I have something to tell—…"_

 _Sirius was nowhere in sight._

 _Inside the room was a large red stag, a shaggy black dog, and a very guilty looking Remus and Peter._

 _Forgetting all about her quest to find Sirius, Guinevere glared at Remus and Peter. This was some idiotic end of the year prank they were planning, she knew it. They somehow found these two animals and were going to set them free into the Great Hall. It sounded like something they would do._

 _Just as she opened her mouth to tell them off, the black dog shifted upright. Guinevere watched in a kind of morbid fascination as the black fur slowly changed into human skin, which was then draped in black robes. The floppy ears shrunk back into human form, covered by black hair._

 _"Guin, I can explain."_

 _The black dog was gone in the blink of an eye. Standing in its place was a very nervous looking Sirius._

 _"Dammit, Padfoot, you should have just stayed a dog and let her think Moony and Wormtail found us in the Forbidden Forrest!"_

 _Her eyes darted over to the source of the yelling. James stood in the place of the great stag._

 _She grabbed onto the doorframe, afraid that she would pass out from pure shock._

 _Sirius had a lot of explaining to do._

* * *

"Good evening, everyone," Dumbledore greets them. "And what a wonderful evening it is. Dare I say, the Potters' wedding brought tears to my eyes. I hope they don't mind me leaving them out of the meeting. I thought they would both be… far too tired."

Sirius and Guinevere exchange a look across the table, both wide eyed and silently praying that Dumbledore didn't mean to imply what they think he was implying. That's not something that either of them want to hear from the elderly professor.

"Why are we missing so many people besides those two?" Marlene asks.

It's only now when Guinevere really looks around the table, taking a head count.

There's Dorcas, Marlene, Remus, Moody, Dumbledore, Sirius, herself…

No one else.

She sits up taller in her seat to peak over Sirius's head and down the long hallway, leading towards the sitting room. Is anybody late? She definitely wouldn't put it past Gideon or Fabian Prewett to show up long after the meeting has already started and claim they "got lost".

"Because we only need you five," Moody replies.

The five people in question all exchange glances with each other.

Guinevere hasn't been given the opportunity to do much for the Order yet besides a few stakeouts that have only proven to be a huge waste of time. And she sure as hell has never been asked to an _exclusive_ meeting.

Part of her revels in it.

The other part of her wishes she and Sirius were safely cuddled up together in bed, away from all the potential danger this meeting may bring.

"There have been rumors abound," Dumbledore continues. "In a week's time, there is supposedly going to be an attack on Hogsmeade by a small group of Voldemort's supporters."

 _'Supposedly'._

One thing that Guinevere has quickly learned about war is that the enemy doesn't give a polite heads-up about their plans. Any rumors that the Order hears of their activities are just that; rumors. Everything is a "maybe" or a "probably" or a "supposedly".

Meaning that they never _really_ know what they're jumping into.

"But why Hogsmeade?" Dorcas asks. "It's an entirely magical community. I mean, it's not like they _ban_ muggleborns or anything, but school's out and almost everybody who lives there full time is a pureblood. I thought they wanted to keep the purebloods alive."

Moody grunts with effort as he limps to his fridge, drawing all eyes in the room over to him. Up until that point, he had kept firmly in the corner of the kitchen. That way, he could keep his enchanted eye on everyone there.

His wooden leg clacks against the tile floor in a way that grates on Guinevere's already frayed nerves. He opens the fridge and grabs a large jar of pumpkin juice, pouring it into his flask.

"It's not about blood status to them," he says. "This is a war. Anyone not on their side is the enemy. They don't care about the casualties because they're doing this to make a statement."

"They want us to know that they can do whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want," Marlene interrupts, her voice barely above a whisper.

Guinevere looks across the table and catches Sirius's gaze. Any trace of levity that was in his eyes when they first walked in is gone. All she sees now is disgust and a deep, deep anger.

She wants to scream out the pointlessness, the absolute depravity of it all. The Death Eaters all have mothers and fathers and husbands and wives and kids of their own. How could they take away someone else's family so easily? Flagrantly risking the lives of innocent witches and wizards just to _make a point_?

It's senseless, just like this entire war. That's another thing that Guinevere had to learn quickly; war is senseless.

"Meadowes, McKinnon, Driscoll," Moody barks. "You'll be stationed at The Three Broomsticks at approximately 7am to noon every day next week to look out for any suspicious activity. Lupin, you'll take Zonko's. And Black, you'll take Honeyduke's. They're the three most populated places in the entire village. It would only make sense for them to strike in one of those places first."

"But why are you assigning three of us to The Three Broomsticks and only one person to each other the other locations?" Guinevere asks.

When Moody turns his disfigured head to look at her, she immediately regrets speaking up. His gaze always makes her feel as though she's a student about to be reprimanded by a professor. It's always so _harsh_.

"Because The Three Broomsticks is by far the largest. We need eyes on every spot of that place. Would you rather I assign you there by yourself so you have _no one_ to watch your back? Constant vigilance, Driscoll!"

This time, when Sirius catches her eye, he gives her a grin. It's smaller and looks more forced than usual, but she appreciates the effort.

"But won't it be suspicious to just hang out in a shop all day?" Sirius asks, tearing his gaze away from Guinevere. "I mean, I _have_ spent an obscene amount of time in Honeyduke's before, don't get me wrong, but every day of the week…?"

"You and Lupin will be switching out with one of the girls every five hours beginning at noon," Moody says. "But three people must be at The Three Broomsticks _at all times_. If one of you decides you want to muck around at another shop, I'll know."

"And where will you be?" Remus asks.

"I'll have Aurors stationed at every conceivable entrance to Hogsmeade, but I won't be there myself. Scrimgeour has me chasing down a lead about some old bitty practicing the Unforgivables on the family pets. Waste of my bloody time, I told 'em. Not my bloody department's job…"

His words begin slowly disintegrating into unintelligible grumbling as he goes on, limping down the hallway and into the sitting room.

That's usually a sign that he's unofficially kicking them all out.

"If at all possible, apprehend them quickly and quietly," Dumbledore continues, ignoring Moody's departure. "Making a scene could risk our exposure. Leave that to the Auror's. I trust you all know who to look out for?"

Names pop into Guinevere's head like a piece of text she's been forced to memorize for a class.

 _Avery. Rosier. Malfoy. Crabbe. Goyle. Mulciber. Yaxley. Macnair. Snape. Lestrange. Carrow._

It's hard to forget the faces that she saw almost every single waking moment for seven years.

"Oh yeah, I know," Dorcas growls. "If Snape is there, I'll kill 'im."

Sirius laughs, Remus sighs, and Guinevere just rubs her temples.

How is she going to hold her friend back when she secretly agrees with her?

"I'm afraid, Miss Meadowes, that won't be possible," Dumbledore says. "It is imperative that no lethal force should be used unless in the case of an emergency. The Auror office would like _living_ subjects to question afterwards."

He leans forward slightly, as if he's going to tell her a secret.

"Though it wouldn't hurt to ask Alastor if you can practice a few hexes on him afterwards. Nothing fatal, of course."

Dorcas smirks in response. Even Guinevere can't hold back a small smile when Remus chokes on his coffee.

After what Snape did to Lily, they would all kill for an opportunity to get their hands on him.

"I won't keep you any longer," Dumbledore announces. "Go, all of you, get some sleep. Come next week, you won't be getting much."

Guinevere winces quietly.

Once again, the sleep she values so much is far out of her grasp.

The friends all say their goodbyes and part ways to begin their journeys home. Sirius leaves Remus with the promise to see him soon.

Since they've left Hogwarts, the rest of the Marauders have yet to miss a single full moon with Remus. Every time Sirius leaves to keep his friend company, Guinevere is wracked with nerves. Even while knowing that werewolves rarely harm animals, she always fears that this is the time it happens. _This_ is the time where Sirius gets injured or even killed at the hands of dear, sweet Remus.

But she can't ask him to stop. Not now that she knows how painful the transformations are for Remus.

So she goes with Lily to find them at sunrise every time, breathing a sigh of relief every time she sees Sirius in once piece, and helps nurse Remus back to health. It's the only thing she _can_ do.

As soon as Guinevere and Sirius cross the threshold into their flat, Guinevere tosses her shoes off.

If they get another summons tonight, so help her, she's telling them to bugger off.

Sirius kicks off his own shoes and takes off that muggle leather jacket he's so fond of, tossing it onto the couch. Guinevere bites back the urge to scold him until he puts it in the closet because _dammit Sirius, this is the hundredth time—_

"You know how long it's been since we've been alone together for more than a few minutes?" Sirius asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Guinevere smirks, snaking an arm up Sirius's chest. Her gripes about the jacket are immediately forgotten.

"Too long. I've missed you."

He lets out his bark-like laugh, grabbing her by the waist to pull her closer and leaning down. His lips just barely brush over the shell of her ear.

"Should we take this to the bedroom, Driscoll?" he whispers.

A shiver runs up her spine.

"After you, Black."

A little more than two minutes later, they're both bundled up under the covers, fully clothed and dead asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! I'm back at school now, but I'm still going to try to update whenever I get the chance! As always, please feel free to leave a review. They keep me going. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Two days.

Two whole days have come and gone without any inkling of an attack in Hogsmeade. And if Guinevere has to drink one more damn butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, she's going to lose it.

Monday was uneventful. Tuesday was even _more_ uneventful. Now it's Wednesday, and she's beginning to think that this rumor about a Death Eater attack is nothing but a rumor.

She checks the ridiculously intricate grandfather clock resting against the wall across from her and groans. She still has another hour until either Sirius or Remus are set to take her place and she can just wander around Zonko's or Honeyduke's for five hours.

It's not that Marlene and Dorcas aren't good company, but spending nearly all of her week with them is enough to make her want to take a day to herself in her flat; just her and Stevie Wonder, cuddled up on the couch with some episodes of _Soul Train_.

"Try not to look _too_ devastated about having to hang out with us," Dorcas jokes, leaning her shoulder into Marlene's.

Guinevere rolls her eyes and grabs the butterbeer out of Dorcas's hands, taking a gulp. Dorcas opens her mouth to protest, but Guinevere shoots her a glare.

"I need this right now."

Dorcas narrows her eyes and begins to say something no doubt snappish, but stops short when Marlene rests a delicate hand on her arm. Her shoulders deflate and she seems to, for once in her life, have nothing more to say.

Guinevere wonders how Marlene always seems to know exactly what to do to calm Dorcas down, more so than Alice and Lily and herself combined. A single word or a soft touch from the blonde can make the normally argumentative and brash girl melt.

They balance each other out perfectly.

"How's decorating the flat going?" Marlene asks, deftly changing the subject.

Guinevere winces. She swore to them when she first moved in that she would make the place look more like she was living there and less like she was just passing through. Now, after over two months there, it still looks abysmal.

"Um… It's… going."

Dorcas snorts.

"The sink counter still has mold in the grout?" she assumes

Guinevere scowls.

"No, I took care of that," she insists. "We just haven't gotten around to… y'know… the _decorative_ stuff. We're both so busy and we figure as long as we have a bed, a couch, a fridge, and each other, then we're good, right? What else is there to want?"

Dorcas and Marlene exchange secretive smiles. Guinevere can't even begin to imagine why, so she doesn't attempt to. Those two have their own code.

"How very _domesticated_ ," Dorcas coos.

Guinevere sputters, trying to think of a rebuttal. There's many words she could use to describe Sirius Black, but "domesticated" is not one of them. And she can't imagine _ever_ thinking of him like that.

"You're worse than Mrs. Potter," she scolds. "Sirius and I have only been dating for eight months. Stop acting like we're married."

Marlene gives her a smile, a far away, dreamy kind of look in her eyes.

"I don't think the length of time you're with someone matters, Guin," she says. "When you really, truly love someone, you know. Whether it's two years into the relationship or two months, there's a time when you find yourself imagining a life with them and realizing… That's it. That's the only future you _can_ imagine for yourself."

Dorcas bumps her shoulder against Marlene's with a soft smile. It's times like these when Guinevere thinks about something her mother once said, about how some people have been on this earth before. If that's true, then Marlene is one of those people.

"Enough about me and Sirius. What about Alice and Frank? Did she tell you whether or not she picked out a wedding date?"

Dorcas and Marlene groan in unison.

Alice and her longtime boyfriend, Frank Longbottom, have been engaged since June. Unlike James and Lily, who had a virtually nonexistent engagement period, Frank and Alice aren't diving headfirst into marriage.

"Frank's mum wants them to have a "real" ceremony," Dorcas scoffs. "And you know Alice. She's too shy to tell her to sod off."

"Well I should _hope_ she doesn't tell her future mother-in-law to sod off," Marlene gasps.

Guinevere zones out while her friends argue over what Alice's course of action should be, deciding instead to scan the area. She's already done so what feels like hundreds of times in the past few hours, but another glance over couldn't hurt.

After all, it's not like they're going anywhere anytime soon.

The Three Broomsticks is having a relatively slow day. Without Hogwarts students swarming the place, it feels oddly empty. Guinevere has never seen it this way. She's only ever visited as a Hogwarts student, never as a spy.

The two things are so distinctively different that she can almost forget she only graduated a few months before.

Her eyes keep coming back to a couple who have been cuddled up at the bar for the past half hour. The girl's face is buried in the man's shoulder, their sides pressed up against each other. Her body shakes with laughter. Their butterbeers are barely touched. It seems like any other normal date.

Guinevere can't even remember the last time she and Sirius went on a "normal" date.

They're both so busy these days that they've begun to consider sleeping in the same bed at the same time as a kind of date. They probably haven't actually gone out alone together since they were still in Hogwarts.

Maybe after all this is over, they can come here and be as care free as that couple at the bar.

She finally tears her eyes away from the couple and keeps scanning the area. There's mostly just older wizards taking their lunch break and a few alcoholics who she's seen every day this week.

She scrutinizes the first head of non-grey hair she sees.

It belongs to a tall, lanky man who stands with his back turned to her. He's facing the bar, just… standing. He's making no move to take a seat or order something from the bartender. His posture is stiff. Altogether, he looks out of place. All of Guinevere's natural and learned instincts are telling her that he's someone to keep an eye on.

When he turns around, pressing his back against the bar, she becomes sure of it.

The pale blue eyes, the light blond hair tied up in a braid, the harsh features; it's Corban Yaxley. He was a Slytherin and a year ahead of her, but that doesn't mean that she didn't unfortunately run into him a few times. Each time, he was ruder than the last.

It was no shock to her or anyone else that he turned out to be a Death Eater.

Before she can alert Marlene or Dorcas, Yaxley's eyes lock on hers. The intensive training she was forced to endure under Moody goes right out of the window as she stares right back at him. He holds her gaze for a few tense seconds before smirking.

Their cover is blown and its all her fault.

She breaks eye contact with him and looks over at Marlene and Dorcas, trying to remain as calm as possible. Panicking would only heighten his suspicion.

The two girls are bickering over whether or not it would be a good idea to get a cat when Guinevere cuts in.

"Guys, it's happening."

Discussion at the table immediately ceases. Neither girl looks around to verify Guinevere's claim, which she is grateful for. They don't want to make it even _more_ obvious that they know his plans.

"Should we get the others?" Marlene asks in a whisper.

"Not _our_ people," Dorcas responds. "But the… _other_ people."

 _Aurors_. She's talking about the aurors stationed around Hogsmeade.

"I'll go get them," Guinevere volunteers. Maybe if she leaves, Yaxley will think she just recognized him from their school years and became uncomfortable at his presence.

Dorcas and Marlene make no arguments as Guinevere stands up out of her seat. A shout of " _Confringo!_ " from behind her, followed by a deafening crash, makes her fall back into her chair.

She turns her head towards the bar and finds all the bottles smashed and dripping onto the floor while the bartender cowers in fear. To her shock, Yaxley isn't the only one with his wand out. He's now flanked by Avery and Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's _lovely_ cousin. Unlike Avery and Yaxley, who wear haughty smirks, Bellatrix's mouth is twisted into what Guinevere guesses could be called a smile.

And just like that, chaos erupts in The Three Broomsticks.

People scream and make a mad dash for the exit, trampling each other on their way out. Mixed in with the sounds of screams and feet scuffling is shouts of " _Confringo!_ " and " _Expulso!_ ", followed by more glasses shattering and some thuds that Guinevere can only pray are not bodies dropping.

This is the first time something has actually _happened_ while she was working for the Order, and she's already in way over her head.

"What do we do?" she shouts to her friends. "We aren't supposed to make a scene!"

Marlene looks as frightened as Guinevere feels as she clutches onto Dorcas's arm. It's a morbid kind of comfort to Guinevere, knowing she isn't alone in her fear. She's not the only one who feels like an ill-prepared child suddenly thrust into an adult's war.

Dorcas, however, doesn't look scared in the least. No, she looks _enraged_.

"Marls, you take on Avery," she commands. "Guin, you go for Yaxley. I've got Lestrange. We just need to hold them off until the others get here. It's too late not to make a scene!"

Guinevere tries to swallow her fear for the time being.

 _It's just until the aurors come,_ she reminds herself. _There's so much commotion, they_ have _to be coming soon._

Dorcas and Marlene leap into action, darting from the table to go duel with their respective targets. Guinevere, however, stays put.

She knows her own skills, and dueling is not one of them. The thought of being the direct cause of harm to anybody, even a Death Eater, is abhorrent to her. But one thing she _can_ do is disarming spells. They're useful while still being able to accommodate her pacifist nature.

Now if only Yaxley would stay still long enough for her to cast it…

" _Expelliarmus!_ " she yells, knocking the wand out of his grip. It clatters to the floor, rolling in her direction. Guinevere and Yaxley look up at the same time, narrowing their eyes at each other. She can see the challenge behind his eyes.

 _I dare you to go for that wand,_ his gaze seems to say.

They dive for it at the same time, their heads bumping together. Guinevere feels a splitting headache coming on, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins is enough to help her power through it. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around the tip of the wand, while Yaxley grips onto the end. A vicious game of tug-of-war ensues.

Guinevere can't tell if her hands are sweating because of nerves or the physical exertion. Either way, her grip on the wand is tenuous.

It doesn't take long for Yaxley to rip it out of her hands, causing her to fall forward. They scramble up to their feet at the same time. The quick motion has Guinevere battling dizziness. Stars float in and out of her vision.

Yaxley screams a curse at her. She blocks it just as quickly.

His face twists up into a sneer as he barks out another one. Again, she blocks. It's one of the only things she knows how to do properly, and she refuses to fling a curse back at him. If she has her way, this war will _never_ reduce her to uttering curses at other human beings.

As his frustration builds, his curses become more frequent, escalating in their violence. Each time, Guinevere blocks and takes a step back. It doesn't take her long to figure out his strategy. He's backing her into a corner of the bar, slowly, but surely. She racks her mind, trying to remember any methods she learned for blocking a curse from a short distance.

 _Nothing._

" _Locomotor wibbly!_ "

She blocks.

" _Sectumsempra!_ "

She blocks.

" _Reducto!_ "

She blocks.

A gleam of pure hatred enters his eyes, paralyzing Guinevere for a quick second. She's experienced enough hatred to last her two lifetimes, but never before has she seen a look so cold.

Murder. That's the only way to describe it. She sees murder in his eyes.

He raises his wand high.

" _Avada—_ ,"

" _Expelliamus!_ "

Yaxley is thrown against the wall like a rag doll. The relief is so great that it causes Guinevere to collapse to the floor. She doesn't know who casted that spell, and she doesn't care.

He was about to cast the killing curse. There's no way to block that.

 _She was about to die._

A hard lump forms in her throat when she utters those words in her mind.

 _She was about to die._

 _She was_ seconds _away from death._

When she becomes aware of her surroundings again, she finds Sirius kneeling in front of her with tired eyes and a worried furrow to his brow. He's sweaty and a little beat up, but he's never looked so handsome to her as he does in that moment.

And to think that she could have left him behind…

"Guin? Guin, are you alright?"

He repeats the same phrase a few more times before Guinevere finds herself nodding robotically in response. He sighs in relief and grabs her by the arms, helping her up off the floor. Her legs feel as though they're about to give out, but he keeps his grip on her and rests his head on hers.

"Let's get out of here," Sirius murmurs against her hair.

Guinevere glances around the bar.

The place is in shambles.

Broken bottles line the floor from the bar all the way to the other side of the building. Tables are reduced to nothing but sharp wooden sticks, some covered in blood. Chairs are overturned or missing legs or both at the same time.

But none of that matters. All that matters is that Guinevere sees no dead bodies strewn across the floor. The Death Eaters didn't accomplish what they came here for.

She was able to do _something_ right, at least.

"Where did they go?" she asks, gripping onto Sirius's shirt.

"Apparated out of here as soon as they realized they weren't gonna win, like the cowards they are. Remus and I ran here as soon as we heard all the screaming. The aurors weren't far behind."

 _At least Yaxley isn't going anywhere,_ she thinks smugly, looking at the Death Eater's unconscious form slumped against a wall.

A question nags at her from the back of her mind. She's ashamed to say she didn't think of it immediately.

"Where are Marlene and Dorcas? And Remus?"

"Outside talking with Moody," he reassures her. "But he gave me the okay to take you home without a debriefing first. You're no use to anyone when you're this out of it."

The words sting in a way she didn't expect. Something about his tone when he claimed she was of no use…

It wasn't in a playful way. Or even a soft, sympathetic way. She would even venture as far to say that he sounded annoyed.

She reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. She needs this, some sort of physical reassurance after what she just went through. She wants to know that this is real and she's still here. But most of all, she wants to know that Sirius doesn't blame her for anything.

He tenses up at the contact.

"Let's go," he repeats. "We have a lot to talk about when we get home."

Before Guinevere can ask what it is they have to talk about, Sirius apparates them away.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters, but I'm back at school and the spring semester is kicking my ass. I'm going to try to update as much as possible though, so don't worry! As always, reviews are always appreciated and thank you for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

The short walk from the apparition point to their apartment is spent in total, deafening silence. Sirius walks ahead of Guinevere the entire way, not sparing a single look back. She struggles to catch up with his brisk pace.

 _What the hell is his problem anyways?_

She stumbles into the apartment after him, tripping over her own feet in the process. She only just manages to grab onto the doorframe to stop herself from falling flat on her face. Still, he does not turn around. He marches the short distance to their living room and starts pacing back and forth.

It's a tactic of his that Guinevere has only seen a few times. When he gets angry, he starts moving; pacing, bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers, anything that will occupy his body. It's almost as if he thinks he can somehow burn the anger out like calories. Guinevere has seen him do this because of anger at other people, but never at _her_.

"So…," she drawls out. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

He finally stops his pacing and turns to look at her with a severe expression.

This is the beginning of their first fight as a couple. She can feel it coming, and dread bubbles up in her stomach. There's something about a fight as a couple that is far more intimidating than their many fights in their school years.

There's so much more to lose now.

Sirius runs a hand down his face, looking every bit as exhausted as Guinevere feels.

"When I found you in The Three Broomsticks, you were cowering in a corner," he grounds out. "You weren't even _trying_ to fight back. That manky bastard was about to kill you, and you didn't even raise a finger to stop him. You just. Stood. There."

Guinevere flinches at the accusation. Still, she attempts to remain calm as she can feel herself slowly growing defensive.

 _Diffuse the situation, Guinevere. Diffuse it before it gets worse._

"The Killing Curse can't be blocked," she argues. "But I was blocking every other curse he cast."

Sirius lets out a frustrated groan and runs a hand through his hair.

"That's just it! Blocking isn't fighting back, Guinevere. You need to _actually_ start defending yourself."

Guinevere feels her cheeks heat up; out of anger or shame, she can't tell.

"You know how I feel about curses and hexes," she whispers.

"Well, you need to get over it," he snaps back. "This is war, not Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Not that you were too terribly great at _that_ either."

She recoils. His words feel like a slap across the face. Up until now, he's been nothing but understanding about her pacifism. He's comforted her after her hand shook too hard to disarm someone. He's gotten between her and angry purebloods glaring at her because he knows she won't do a thing to stop it. When she made it clear months ago that she would never be able to cast a spell with dark intentions, she thought that if nothing else, her own boyfriend would always be understanding of her decision.

"I'm not going to use dark magic _ever_ , Sirius, war or no war. I get sick to my stomach if I so much as _stupefy_ someone. I'm just… not capable of potentially killing another human being, even on accident. It's not in my nature."

He runs a hand through his hair again. His hand is so tightly coiled in the dark strands that she fears he's going to pull out a chunk of his beautiful, soft hair.

"These are _Death Eaters_ , Guinevere!" he shouts. "They want _you_ dead, they want _me_ dead, they want _everyone we care about_ dead! You just have to stop thinking of them as people. It'll make it loads easier."

Guinevere's reaction is instantaneous. She stumbles back, as if she's just been hit.

 _You just have to stop thinking of them as people._

All the darker memories from her Hogwarts years come flooding back due to the words.

 _"Mudbloods are worse than animals. At least animals have their uses."_

 _"People like you don't deserve that wand."_

 _"You're not a real wizard."_

 _"You're practically sub-human."_

Isn't thinking of others as non-humans what got them thrust into this war to begin with?

Anger bubbles up in her stomach with such force that it terrifies her. This isn't the kind of anger she feels when Sirius forgets to wash the dishes or leaves his jacket laying on the couch for the hundredth time. It's the kind of anger she hasn't felt since before they started dating, when they were still having frequent rows. If possible, this anger is even more powerful than _that_.

She can feel the words on the tip of her tongue, words she knows she'll regret, but she can't stop them from escaping.

"Is Regulus not a person then, Sirius?"

The accusation is cruel and completely uncalled for, but it has the desired effect. Sirius's mouth forms into a grim line and hurt flickers across his steel grey eyes, if only for a split second. He quickly masks it as he always does with sadness or hurt, his expression turning hard.

"Don't go there."

Guinevere gladly drops the subject that she regretted the second she brought it up. But still, her anger doesn't wane in the slightest. She's only getting started.

"I'm not a fighter like you and our friends, but that doesn't mean I don't _care_ ," she spits. "I joined the Order to protect you all."

Sirius barks out a harsh laugh.

"Some good that's doing, when you can barely protect _yourself_."

The words sting more than she thought possible. A distant voice in the back of her mind reminds her that this is the very _least_ she deserves after her Regulus comment, but that reminder doesn't stop her ire from rising.

"And maybe I shouldn't have joined the Order!" she yells. "If I hadn't joined, then I wouldn't have to put my entire life on hold!"

" _Put your life on hold_?" he mocks.

"Yes, Sirius, _put my life on hold_. I wanted to work my way up to the head potions maker at Saint Mungo's after I left school. And I don't get to do that. Not now, and not for Merlin knows how long. Because I need to be at the Order's beck and call 24/7."

She gestures wildly around their drab flat.

"Look at where we're living! We barely have four pieces of furniture! And we haven't even had time to unpack our last box in all the months we've lived here. We're jobless, sleep-deprived, barely in our own flat for more than a few hours at a time, and surviving off the gold your uncle left you. All so we can be at the Order's disposal. So yes, my life - _our_ lives - are on hold. And I hate it. I _hate it_."

Sirius has to know that this is true. He _has to_. Guinevere knows that despite his anger, somewhere deep down, he knows he's signed over his life to the Order as well as she does. It has to frustrate him at least slightly. So why are those words not getting through his thick head?

"No one's forcing you to stay and fight," he scoffs. "You can run away to your parents' house any time you want. I'm not stopping you."

The words feel like an accusation. It makes her wonder if he's been waiting for her to run back to her parents in Antrim and forget all about the wizarding world, like some kind of coward.

"In case you're forgotten, I'm a muggleborn," she hisses. "I don't have the luxury of just "running away". Not like _you_."

Sirius inhales sharply.

"You think _I_ can just run away?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"You think you _can't_? You're a pureblood, for feck's sake! Just run to your mummy and tell her you hate mudbloods now and boom, you'll be living like a prince again. They'll _always_ want _me_ dead."

Sirius thumps his fist against the kitchen counter, making Guinevere jump. She could have sworn they started arguing right as they walked through the door. They must have moved over the course of their fight, but she was too wrapped up in it to notice.

"Did you happen to miss out on the last seven years of my life and not know I'm a known blood traitor who was cast out from the House of Black? Or how about the fact that I'm dating a muggleborn? Do you think they wouldn't kill me on sight just for that fact alone?"

"Then just break up with me if you're so worried about getting killed over it!"

Guinevere's words hang in their air between the couple. Neither of them dare speak another word. Sirius just stares at her with his mouth half open, unable to keep the hurt out of his eyes this time. Only then, when she sees how much devastation her words have caused, does she start to regret what she said.

She desperately wants to reach into the air in front of her and snatch those awful words away, but it's too late. She can't take anything back.

After what seems like a lifetime, Sirius clears his throat and steels his expression again.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight."

He may as well have just told her he was moving out.

Guinevere swallows a lump in her throat and nods.

"Fine. See you in the morning."

 _… I hope._

She rushes into their - _her_ \- bedroom and throws herself down onto the mattress. It's hardly an appropriate hour to go to sleep for the night, but she can feel the exhaustion seeping into her bones. It feels like weeks worth of sleepless nights are all coming back to haunt her. She can't even be bothered to change into a pair of pajamas. She just throws the blankets over herself and presses her face down onto the pillow.

If she wasn't so tired, she thinks she'd be sobbing uncontrollably. She just had her first fight with her boyfriend, for Merlin's sake. But she doesn't have the energy for a fit. So, she contends herself with letting a few tears slip out and drop onto her pillow.

She'll just have to reschedule her impending emotional breakdown for some time after the war.

Within minutes of closing her eyes, she falls into a fitful sleep.

Sometime hours later, she is faintly roused back into consciousness by the feeling of the bed dipping under added weight. A shiver goes up her spine when the covers are raised, exposing her back to the cold air. However, this is quickly solved when the covers drape back over her and a warm body slides into the bed beside her.

A hand tentatively reaches out to grasp her own, interlacing their fingers. In her groggy, half-asleep state, she allows it.

Guinevere falls back asleep with a content smile on her face.

* * *

It's the morning light peeking through the tiny bedroom window that wakes Guinevere. It curls around her face, poking at her closed eyes until they flutter open in protest.

She awakes energized for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. Her bones aren't creaking and her head isn't foggy. She feels as though she could leap out of bed and go run a marathon. It's a miracle, and she can't help but think it might be because of the comforting weight of the hand in hers the night before…

Guinevere shoots up in the bed, her hand shooting out to grope the other side of the bed.

 _No Sirius._

She throws the covers off her body and jumps out of bed. The clothes she's been wearing since the day before are wrinkled and a tad bit sweaty, but changing them will just have to wait.

When she enters the kitchen, Sirius is already up and dressed. He stands at the kitchen counter, digging into a plate of poached eggs and toast. The couple still has yet to invest in a kitchen table to actually sit down and eat at.

He spots her standing in front of him and nods to another plate sitting on the counter.

"I made you breakfast."

His tone is terse, matter-of-fact.

Guinevere slowly walks over to the counter and picks up the plate he made her. The food looks appetizing enough, and there's still little puffs of steam rolling off of the eggs. It's fresh and it smells delectable. Still, she pokes at it with her fork, as if expecting bugs to crawl out from underneath the toast.

She can't remember the last time Sirius cooked for her, or her for him. And after their fight, she can't imagine why he would _want_ to.

Hesitantly, she takes a bite.

Not the _best_ she's ever had…

But he tried.

The two eat together in silence, the only sound between them being the crunching of the slightly-too-burnt toast. It's eerie. Usually, when Guinevere and Sirius are alone together, they fill the room with their boisterous conversations and laughter. But Guinevere wouldn't dare start a conversation now. She doesn't want to break the uneasy peace between them and potentially start another argument.

She wonders whether or not she should apologize for last night. Or maybe she should wait for _him_ to apologize. After all, he did start it.

But Guinevere knows Sirius well enough to know he's not fond of the words "I'm sorry".

Besides, she's pretty sure he already gave her his apology in the form of some runny eggs and burnt toast. Which means it's her turn now.

She's snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of a plate clattering. Sirius has evidently already finished his breakfast and placed his dish in the sink. With his back now turned to her, Guinevere takes the time to scrutinize his appearance.

He's wearing that horrid denim jacket that she's tried to get him to throw out countless times before. That can only mean one thing; he plans to go out. Guinevere racks her brain, trying to remember if they had to do something for the Order today. Nothing comes to mind.

So he's going out for _fun_. Without her. On one of the only days they have off together in months.

"Where are you going?"

He whips his head around, narrowing his eyes in shock.

"I'm going to help James and Lily unpack."

 _What about the box still sitting in our bedroom? When will you get around to unpacking_ that _?_

Guinevere purses her lips to keep from voicing her bitter thoughts. He must have taken that as approval of his plans, or he just didn't care about hearing her response, because he goes to snatch his keys from the key rack and then walks out the door.

As soon as she can no longer hear his retreating footsteps, she tosses her own plate into the sink.

She'll just have to unpack that box her own damn self.


	19. Chapter 19

"And then she said - you won't believe this, Dorcas - she said that since Frank's her only child and she has no daughter to pass it down to, I have to wear this dress that's been in her family for over 10 centuries. That thing is probably older than Merlin himself. There's at least 10 charms on it just to hold the fabric together!"

Guinevere glances across the table to exchange a look with Lily. Her best friend shares a similar exhaustion behind her eyes.

Alice has been complaining about her wedding plans for at least half an hour.

Even Dorcas, who shares Alice's frustration about Augusta Longbottom's ridiculous demands, is rubbing at her temples.

"Alice, you wouldn't have this problem if you just put your foot down," she insists.

Alice looks pale at the idea of standing up to her imposing future mother-in-law.

"I want to _live_ to see my own wedding, thanks Dorcas."

Dorcas leans back in her chair and lets out a sigh of frustration, running a hand through her dark locks.

"Marls, grab me a firewhiskey before I lose it."

Marlene rushes off to the kitchen, most likely sensing that Dorcas is far from joking.

For the past two weeks, Guinevere has been all but living in Dorcas and Marlene's flat. She and Sirius are in a bit of a standoff; he spends his time at James and Lily's place, while she spends her time here.

At least James and Lily won't have to worry about having a baby anytime soon. Guinevere and Sirius are making absolutely sure that neither of them have any free time to make one.

"Have two weddings," Lily suggests. "A big one for Frank's mum, and then a private one just for you and Frank."

Alice raises an eyebrow.

"I barely have time for _one_ wedding, Lils."

Guinevere isn't sure if Alice is referring to the fact that she's constantly doing the Order's bidding, or the fact that she could die at any moment. Either way, she's right. As it is, they're all going to have trouble finding a day when they're _all_ available to attend the ceremony.

Marlene chooses that moment to walk back into the living room, holding a half empty glass of firewhiskey. She hands it to Dorcas, who takes it with a huff of relief.

"Does all this really matter?" Marlene asks.

The rest of the girls all give her a sideways glance. All except Dorcas, who is too busy pouring the bottle directly into her mouth.

"It's my _wedding_ , Marlene," Alice states.

"A wedding is just one moment in time. Whether you wear a dress or a rubbish bin, you're gonna be spending the rest of your life with Frank. Isn't that all that you should care about? Your future together?"

Guinevere swallows hard.

She and Sirius aren't even engaged, but she feels the words having an effect on her as well. That's Marlene's specialty, being able to make her friends think.

Alice looks down at the floor. A faint blush flashes across her cheeks.

"I guess the dress isn't _super_ important…"

Lily reaches across the table and places a comforting hand on Alice's wrist.

"Marlene's right. I mean, just look at my wedding. It wasn't exactly what I dreamed of as a kid, but it got the job done."

What that job was, Guinevere still isn't exactly sure of. The idea of marriage, especially during a war, is mystifying to her. It seems frivolous. Why waste precious time gaining a piece of paper legally binding you to someone else? Especially when they could die at any moment? Why not wait until the war ends?

But when she looks at Lily and sees how she glows with joy every time James walks into a room, she begins to question herself.

So maybe Lily and Alice are the exceptions, but Guinevere will sure as hell _never_ marry during this war. No matter how long it lasts.

"Whatever you wear, you're gonna light up the entire room with your smile when you set eyes on Frank," Marlene teases, earning a sly smile from Alice.

A knock on the door causes the girls to freeze in their seats.

They've all heard stories of Death Eaters asking for entrance into unsuspecting peoples' homes, only to pounce on them the minute they open the door. It's like a game to them, seeing their faces fall when they realize who's really at the door.

Dorcas is the first to spring into action. She snatches her wand off the table and gives the rest of the girls a pointed look. The message is clear: they are to stay quiet and let her handle this herself.

Guinevere's lips set into a grim line and clutches at her own wand like it's her only lifeline.

Dorcas moves swiftly and silently up to the door, holding her wand out in front of her. The girls all hold their breath as she looks through the peephole.

As soon as she peeks through the other side, her shoulders slump in relief. It's a sign that the rest of them can relax as well. It's not a Death Eater at the door.

"James Potter, you scared the shit out of me!" Dorcas hisses as she opens the door.

Guinevere peers over Dorcas's shoulder and sees the mop of shaggy black hair that is unmistakably James Potter. She's not sure whether to be relieved that it's only James, or ready to blast him into oblivion for scaring her.

"Sorry, sorry! Now can you please put down your bloody wand? You're making me nervous."

Shooting him one last glare, she shoves her wand into her pocket and steps aside to let him in.

James marches right up to Lily and grabs her by the hand.

"Lils, I finally managed to get Sirius to leave. Now I would like some alone time with my wife before he decides to come back."

Lily rolls her eyes, but allows him to pull her out of her seat. She looks around the table, silently asking their permission. Guinevere doesn't think she should have to seek their approval first. She's a newlywed who was barely been able to spend time with her new husband since they married.

But that's Lily, never wanting to accidentally hurt their feelings.

"You guys mind if I…?"

"Go shag your husband?" Alice finishes for her. "No, not at all. You haven't had nearly enough time alone since you married."

"I appreciate your blessing," James replies with a wink.

That earns him a jab to the side from Lily.

"The next time I see you all better be at Alice's wedding!" she says, gathering her purse. "Otherwise I'll just have to ordain it myself in my living room."

Guinevere snorts. She can just picture it now; Alice walking down the short carpet from the bedroom to the living room in a cheap white dress while her friends throw rice out of the box at her. Oh, Augusta Longbottom would just _love_ that.

The second the door clicks shut behind James and Lily, Dorcas leans across the table towards Guinevere, raising an eyebrow.

"You gonna go home now too or should we just move into a bigger flat to accommodate you?"

Heat flares in her cheeks. She's not sure whether to be embarrassed or angry. Sure, she's at their flat more often than not recently, but she thought they understood. She'd rather sleep on their kitchen floor than have to go home and deal with the stifling silence between her and Sirius.

"If I'm bothering you that much, you could have just —,"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Dorcas interrupts. "You can't hide from Sirius forever. You're gonna have to go home _eventually_."

Logically, Guinevere knows she can't hide out with her friends for much longer. But that irrational little voice in the back of her head asks her, _would it really be that bad to just move from couch to couch for the rest of her life?_

"I just don't feel comfortable with that right now," Guinevere replies tightly. "Sirius and I both need time away from each other to… think."

Alice slips a sympathetic hand onto her shoulder.

"Guin, I think you've done a little _too_ much thinking."

Guinevere gives Alice a hard glare.

"Says the girl who spent the last hour complaining about a dress."

Alice's hand leaves her shoulder as if she's just been slapped. The second Guinevere sees her friend's hurt expression, guilt floods her.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that," she groans, resting her head in her hands. Alice gives her a small, pitying smile.

"You know, you're always so quick to apologize for _everything_. Why won't you extend the same courtesy to Sirius?"

"Because she's trying to destroy her own relationship, that's why," Dorcas cuts in.

Guinevere goes red in the face at the accusation.

"Did it ever occur to either of you that maybe Sirius is the one in the wrong here?" she asks sardonically.

The words taste bitter on her tongue. She feels like a petulant little girl in a dumb little fight with her first boyfriend. But she's _not_ a child and this _isn't_ a small tif. It's not fair to place all the blame on Sirius. She thought she was better than that.

"I think you both have some blame to share," Marlene cuts in, mirroring Guinevere's own thoughts. "You've both been avoiding each other. Now one of you has to be the bigger person and end it."

Guinevere was ashamed to admit, she didn't _want_ to be the bigger person. So much has been asked of her already. Why should she have to do this as well?

"Maybe it's better this way," she says, her voice tight. "If we're going to stop speaking for weeks after every row, then maybe we should just—,"

"If you finish that sentence, so help me, I'll break my chair over your back," Dorcas threatens.

Guinevere purses her lips, feeling an outrage she knows she has no right to be feeling. She wants to be annoyed at her friends for being overly invested in her love life and telling her what she should and should not do. But wasn't it her who took their advice to get together with him in the first place?

"You can't keep pulling this self-sacrificing rubbish every time things get a little hard," Dorcas continues. "I know you think Sirius would be safer without you, but he's a bloody adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to date, and he decided on _you_."

Dorcas is right; for some insane reason, Sirius decided he wants to date her. Her, a muggleborn witch with no sense of adventure or any fortune to speak of. Not like him.

"If you really care for someone, shouldn't you make sacrifices for them?" Guinevere asks, feeling herself grasping at straws. "What if breaking up with Sirius is, like, my ultimate sacrifice to keep him safe? I mean, what if—,"

"GUIN!"

Guinevere blinks at Marlene's sudden outburst.

When she's angered her quiet friend, she knows she's done something very wrong.

"That's selfish!" she insists, her pale cheeks turning a bright red. "You're not sacrificing anything for _him_. You're doing it for yourself, because you're still as scared as you were before you started dating. Do you think you're the _only_ one who's scared, Guinevere?"

Guinevere flinches at Marlene's use of her full name. She can't remember the last time any of her friends have called her anything but 'Guin'.

" _I'm_ scared too. But I can't let that stop me from being happy! I'm a pureblood dating a half-blood and I'm scared _every damn day_ —,"

"Marls!" Dorcas growls warningly.

Guinevere stares at Dorcas. Then at Marlene. Then back to Dorcas. Then back to Marlene.

 _Marlene is a pureblood… She says she's dating a half-blood… Dorcas is trying to get her to shut up… Dorcas is a half-blood…_

The dots connect before her eyes.

"You guys… are dating…?"

Dorcas and Marlene exchange a look that Guinevere can't seem to interpret. It's strange, not being able to understand their silent discussion. They've all been friends for so long that they don't always need words to convey their thoughts. But this nonverbal conversation Dorcas and Marlene are having…

It's all the confirmation Guinevere needs.

"Since when?" she sputters.

Marlene blushes and rubs the back of her neck.

"Only a few months," she admits.

"Everything's been so crazy lately we just didn't know when to tell you all," Dorcas cuts in. "And we didn't know if the rest of you would think it was weird for us to be dating within our own friend group. And…"

She trails off, and it hits Guinevere that this is the first time she's ever seen Dorcas at a loss for words.

Dorcas and Marlene have always been the closest out of all the girls. Even Guinevere and Lily, who met within the first week of their first year, didn't have nearly the same bond as them. Dorcas, ever the hot-head, is instantly calmed by just a single touch from Marlene. And Marlene, sweet and quiet and cautious, comes alive in Dorcas's presence.

How Guinevere couldn't see it before, she has no idea.

"You two are… _perfect_ for each other."

Both Marlene and Dorcas are visibly relieved at the news. Guinevere feels her heart clench at that.

Did they really think she wouldn't take the news well?

"Thanks, Guin," Marlene breathes. "That means a lot to both of us."

Dorcas just gives her a sly grin.

"Now do you see why I want you out of our flat so bad?"

Guinevere rolls her eyes. She's only known about their relationship for a few minutes and they're already worse than Lily and James.

But Dorcas does have a point, she _should_ leave. When is the last time she's been in her flat for anything other than grabbing a change of clothes?

And she still hasn't unpacked that last bloody box.

Marlene was right when she said Guinevere was just scared and selfish. Destroying her relationship with Sirius is a desperate attempt to lessen the guilt should she ever be the reason he gets hurt.

Or worse.

It's cowardly and she knows it.

"Dorcas… You're right."

Dorcas raises an eyebrow.

"About what exactly."

"About me trying to sabotage my own relationship," she admits. "I tried to do it before we even started dating and I'm still doing it now. I've been such a pathetic, spineless git!"

Marlene laughs and reaches across the table to place her hand atop Guinevere's.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Guin. You were scared. Everybody gets scared. What matters is overcoming it."

Guinevere gives her friend a toothy smile, and her soul feels lighter than it's been in a very long time.

"You know, mates, I think I'm gonna go back home. I have a box I want to unpack…"

* * *

It's just beginning to rain when Guinevere apparates to the park nearby her flat. The soft pitter patter of raindrops gaining in intensity promise a bigger storm to come.

By the time she reaches her door, her clothes are completely soaked.

Droplets of water slip from her hair, dripping down her forehead and getting caught in her thick eyelashes. With bleary eyes she tries to put her key in the door. After a few failed attempts, she finally manages to shove it in the keyhole and cautiously open the door.

She's greeted by a wand being shoved in her face.

It annoys her rather than alarms her. She can easily recognize her boyfriend's wand.

Sirius lets out an annoyed huff when he realizes it's only Guinevere and shoves his wand into his belt.

"Could you have _been_ any louder?" he hisses. "And why are you dripping water all over the floor.

She shrugs, feeling a grin tug at her lips.

"It was raining so I decided to wash myself in the middle of the street. Save us some money on the water bill."

The teasing response seems to throw him off guard. Their only interactions these past few weeks have been terse at best. At worst, she's been downright rude to him. It's something she bitterly regrets.

 _What was this argument even_ about _?_

"Well…" Sirius begins. He clears his throat uncomfortably, and Guinevere has to squash down the urge to run back to Marlene and Dorcas.

That's her fear talking, and she refuses to let herself be controlled by it. _Again_.

"I was just about to head over to Peter's. I don't know when I'll be back. There's stuff to make sandwiches and some crisps in the pantry."

His clipped tone makes Guinevere flinch. It sounds as if they're merely roommates instead of a couple.

He turns away from her, his eyes focused on his jacket that is _laying on the couch that she has told him multiple times not to lay his clothes on-_

As soon as he takes a step away from her, she grabs him by the sleeve.

"Please don't go."

Even Guinevere is shocked by her own words. Her voice is nothing more than a whisper, her words far more vulnerable than she has ever been comfortable with being. She almost wishes she could take it back, but there's no way to grab the words from the air and stuff them back down her throat.

Sirius's expression flashes from shocked to confused to saddened in the span of a few seconds. His gaze flitters from the floor to the kitchen to his sleeve, trying to look at anything but her eyes.

"Guin…"

"I'm so sorry," she croaks. "I've been so caught up worrying up accidentally getting you hurt that I ended up hurting you myself. I haven't put nearly the amount of effort into this relationship that you have, and I am so, _so_ sorry."

She watches as he glances from her hand to her face and then back again. His expression is completely unreadable. If he were to reject her, she feels as though her heart would break.

Slowly, he turns his body to face her, taking her hand in his.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Guin," he murmurs.

A shaky, relief-filled laugh escapes her throat.

He's touching her. He hasn't touched her in weeks.

She didn't realize how much she missed it.

"I have a lot to apologize for, Sirius."

He gives her a smile; one of those wide smiles full of mischief that she missed so much.

"Then we both have a lot to apologize for. Now come on, let's not stand here and argue about who's to blame. I can think of a few more… _enjoyable_ ways we could show each other how sorry we are."

Guinevere laughs at the wolfish grin on his face and doesn't waste one more second before jumping into his arms. He immediately grips her by her thighs to keep her upright while she wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him for the first time in a long time. Her wet clothes stick to his, soaking them, but neither of them give it much notice. They're too wrapped up in each other.

Not breaking the kiss for a second, Sirius begins to lead them backwards into their bedroom.

That box can wait for just a little while longer…


End file.
